A Dream Written
by Dreaming Violet Butterfly
Summary: A farm of plot bunnies for anyone to pick from. Full of partial chapter ones and preludes to stories.
1. The Boy Who Lived in the Holy Land

**Okay everyone, I felt really bad about how I wrote up my plot bunnies before. So now instead of doing that horrible, dreaded list, I went ahead and made a sort of Chapter One slash Prelude. A few of my old crossover ideas will pop up here, but it'll start getting new stuff pretty soon. Every idea is up for adoption, you can just take the idea itself and make it into your own or use what I wrote, I don't mind. I would like a pm if you do though, because I'd love to read some of these ideas! Anyhow, I don't own Harry Potter or the various fandoms I crossover with it, and all of that good junk. **

**This one is a One Piece X Harry Potter crossover where Harry grows up as a World Noble. So without further ado, enjoy!**

* * *

**The Boy Who Lived in the Holy Land**

The occupants of Number Four Privet, if ever asked, would say that they were a perfectly ordinary family, with a perfectly ordinary house, and a perfect ordinary life. There was nothing strange about them, and nothing strange ever occurred around them. Then they would slam the door right on your face, screaming no soliciting, as obviously a normal person would never ask such outright questions.

Many of their neighbors were in the same opinion as these occupants, who were known as the Dursley's. They were seen as the personification of a perfect suburbia life, with a providing husband being Vernon Dursley, the doting wife as Petunia Dursley, and a bouncing blond baby boy, known simply as Dudley Dursley.

There was of course their rather, unique, appearances. With Vernon looking like a walrus with his girth and mustache, Petunia emulating a giraffe with her long neck, and baby Dudley taking after a beach ball of all things. But this was easily overlooked by the nosy inhabitants of Privet Drive, who could see nothing wrong with the family.

Well, except for one, itty, bitty, teeny, tiny thing.

The Dursley's had a young nephew, as loath as they were to say it, who they had been taking care of for all of a week. His name was Harry Potter, and as far as the neighborhood was concerned, he was going to be a bad apple, no matter what kindness the Dursley's were giving the child. After all, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and with little Harry's parents being deadbeats who got themselves killed drunk driving, well, they were worried as a whole.

However, what the neighborhood gossips and old biddies didn't know, was that little Harry's parents were not deadbeats who got themselves killed in a car crash. In fact, that little information was something the Petunia had spouted out, not wanting her neighbors to know the truth.

The truth that Harry Potter wasn't the child of some deadbeat parents, but the child of freakish reality bending people known as wizards. Who, in their own stupidity, or so she thought, had got themselves killed by a terrorist who fancied himself as a Dark Lord. The same terrorist who killed their parents because her sister made herself a major target.

Not that the shrew of a woman was in the whole know here. All of her information on the current events in that world came from nothing more than a piece of parchment that was left behind on her doorstep, along with her nephew.

She would have never taken in the freak if it was up to her, in fact, she would have dropped the grubby little brat off at an orphanage and be done with it. Because while Lily was her sister, and she did love her in the past, she just could not take care of a wizard child.

There was just too much anger and jealousy in her at wizard kind. For them taking away her sister, for their magic which they lauded as superior, and for her not being one of them.

But there was something else that stirred in Petunia's heart at the mention of wizards. Fear.

There was a deep fear for what these wizards did, what their magic was capable of. While Lily may have been seen as the smart and beautiful daughter by her parents, Petunia was hardly stupid. In fact, she was downright cunning, and when Lily babbled on about that freakish school of hers, Petunia was able to gain a wealth of information.

Information like how there were spells that could cause someone to loose their memories; Obliviate if she remembered. The abuse of that kind of spell could be catastrophic, there could be women walking around who had gotten raped by one of these wizards. Yet they didn't know it because someone waved a stick of all things.

A heinous act covered by perfect Lily's precious magic, and it made Petunia sick. And even worse, that was on the low end. There were hundreds of spells out there, spells like the one that killed her parents, that were even worse.

It was this fear of wizards, this fear of magic, coupled with the letter that forced Petunia to take her nephew in.

Because Petunia was hardly stupid, she knew what the contents of the letter meant. Her freak of a nephew, Harry, was thought of as a savior in their world. They all believed that the little snot had killed the most evil of them, a thought which made Petunia balk with some fear, but she was always able to discount that information. Because while her nephew was a freak, he couldn't have killed someone, a baby couldn't be that bad of a freak.

But the matter remained that he was thought of as a savior, and if anything was to happen to him, then it'd be on her head. They would converge on her and her family, with their terrible magic, and they'd do horrible things. She was sure of that.

So to protect her family, the family she put so much time into, Petunia had reluctantly convinced her husband to take the freak in last week. She would care for the abomination, but no more than needed to be. Because she wouldn't let her own fear rule her in raising some child.

Too bad Petunia could never keep to such a conviction.

* * *

It was a bright, Friday morning on Privet Drive. Housewives were bustling around their kitchens, cleaning the mess left from an early morning breakfast. Husbands stole a quick kiss from their busy partners, murmuring their farewells as they left for work, their children not far behind as they left to play in the warm summer weather.

Petunia was no stranger to this morning ritual, she herself having repeated it for years with Vernon. However, there was a change in plans on this fine afternoon.

Instead of going straight away to home clean up, Petunia was going to bath Harry. Once she finished putting her precious Diddums in the playpen with all his toys of course.

But the fact of the matter was that Petunia was going to give the freak, Harry, a bath.

If she could, she wouldn't even feed the grubby child, whose face was streaked with dust and his tuff of hair a tiny greasy mess; undoubtedly left in such a state from his snit in the cupboard under the stairs.

However, he stunk. Horribly. Sure Petunia changed his nappies once in a great while, when his crying became too much of a hassle, but it did nothing to dissuade the child from the pungent stink that sunk out from his makeshift room.

So, it was with much reluctance that she started to give him a bath this morning, lifting him out of a spare high chair Dudley had long outgrown, and holding him at arms length, her nose wrinkling unattractively.

She was going to give the little freak a bath in her sink, since he wasn't good enough for the tub as her strapping Dudley was. Plus the fact that he was still tiny for his age helped a lot.

So with mechanic movements, none of which withed the opinion that she'd rather be doing anything else, Petunia set up the little makeshift bath in the sink, making sure she had some soap, and even baby shampoo. The last of which she planned to use as sparingly as possible.

Not wishing to delay any longer, and wanting to get back to her own precious child, Petunia hurried up, dumping her Nephew into the barely lukewarm water before she began to scrub, albeit harshly.

Harry, the sweet baby he was, fussed minimally, but seemed to be more interested in the colorful suds that floated about in the water and air. He didn't understand what was going on, that he wasn't wanted nor did he understand that his parents were gone.

He was a baby, and he couldn't really comprehend anything. But he did know one thing, that he was unhappy the whole week he was in the strange house. Getting yelled at by a scary puce colored man when he wailed from his discomforted, the feeling of hunger that clung to his stomach like a heavy blanket, or the enclosed darkness he was subjugated to daily. It was horrible.

Yet being let into the somewhat warm, but mostly cold water with its foamy bubbles was nice. It was the nicest thing he had seen, or felt since he'd been in the all too clean house. It filled the dark haired baby with a sense of jubilation, even as his aunt roughly handled his hair, cleaning the locks of its greasy build up.

Now, as many wizards know, when a child feels a strong emotion, they tend to do what is called accidental magic. Accidental magic can vary from child to child, though the effect itself is influenced by the emotion behind it. Like if a child was angry, things would break. If they're sad, their magic would do something to cheer them up. When they're scared or endangered, their magic will rise to defend them. And like sadness, happiness fuels the magic into making the child happier.

In Harry's case, his magical core, unnaturally large for his age or even for an adult, let loose a bit of his magic into his surroundings; trying to fuel that child's happiness even more.

Petunia screamed when she saw the frothy bubbles in the sink animate themselves into the shapes of mythical creatures. One forming into a dragon that flew around, another into a unicorn that pranced upon its bubble plain, and another into a mermaid who waved merrily back; Harry all the while laughing and splashing at his toys.

Anger, unlike any other before welled up in Petunia at the sight of magic being done in front of her. But fear was also present. The all consuming fear when she thought of what magic could do, how it could hurt her family, how it had hurt her.

Such a volatile cocktail of emotion brewed inside her like a sickly bitter poison, setting her veins alight in fury. She didn't know what really pushed her to do it, but one moment she was screaming, where as in the next she was holding the flailing body of the freak, Harry, under the water. His limbs flailing clumsily as bubbles rose up in an unspoken plea for air.

It was no surprise what happened next. Harry whose large magic reserve was barely dented reacted violently to the child's new emotion of terror and pain. It latched securely to the most instinctual desire of the child, that of survival.

Fueled by emotion and desire it reacted violently, in a whirl storm of water that would put a broken water main to shame the magic had done as was its purpose. It had gotten Harry out of there in the best way it knew, and had whisked him away using the very water to a place he would not only survive, but live.

Petunia sat dumbstruck on the floor of her kitchen, staring unblinkingly at where her now cracked open sink sat, her skin red from where the water had exploded outwards and chaffed against her skin roughly. There was no sign of the freak in the wreckage. No body, no blood, or even blood stained water. Harry was gone, no trace besides the wreckage left behind.

In the background, Dudley Dursley let loose a mighty bellow as he was awoken from his nap by the sound of loud, rushing water.

* * *

In the holy land of Mariejois, an ungodly wail broke through the grandiose halls of the illustrious palace. Saint Roswald paused in his walk, his thick brows furrowing as his mouth settled into an angry frown.

The land had just recently been repaired since the beast known as Fisher Tiger had ran rampant in it, and no one, not the Gorosei, not the Marines, and defiantly not the Tenryubito were in any mood for tomfoolery. Let alone in the mood from the crying, desperate wail of what sounded like a baby.

Huffing, the Noble looked around him, scowling when he saw that there were no guards in his general vicinity; most likely being busy guarding the outside or helping with repairs on the very edge of their sacred land.

"Looks like I'll just have to do it myself. Good for nothing peons." Roswald huffed irritably as he stormed towards the origin of the noise.

He navigated through the familiar repaired walls, taking no notice to the garish show of luxury he and his fellow Nobles shared, fully intent on his task.

Two sets of stairs and three more hallways later did Roswald find the origin of the noise, sitting smack dab in the courtyard by the pond, it's little body shaking like a leaf in the Autumn winds.

It was a baby, that much he already knew as he stalked irritably over to it, his robes barely touching the ground. The boy, for indeed it was a boy now that he had gotten closer, had quieted upon his arrival; his little pink lips quivering cutely in a show that he was cold, while his fingers clenched the air.

Now that he could see the child more clearly, the crotchety Noble could admit he was cute. With downy black hair and pallid skin. He was a bit skinny, but that could be rectified with some food, if someone minded it. He'd make a beautiful slave in the future, that was for sure. However as of now, the thing was an annoyance, and it dared to desecrate the holy lands of his ancestors. He couldn't abide by that, and he would make sure to end it.

Pulling out his gun in a familiar twitchy motion, Roswald set the barrel against the child's forehead, not at all caring he was about to kill a baby of all things. But just as he was about to pull the trigger, something caught his attention from the corner of his eye, something hidden under the child's raven hair.

Using the gun to but the messy locks aside, the bearded man couldn't help but let loose a gasp. "My god, this can't be!" Roswald cried dramatically, the gun slipping from his hand, and plopping itself into the pond.

There, in stark contrast to the child's skin was a pink, lightning bolt scar, standing up proudly like an insignia. An insignia Roswald was familiar with, damningly so.

"But it can't be, how could a child bear this sign! Maybe it's a mistake?" The man howled to himself, in a tizzy almost. He honestly couldn't believe what was happening, but he had to make sure. Even if the chance was just a smidgen, he owed it not only to himself, but to this child to check it out.

So with some slowness, did Roswald pick up the child, awkwardly cradling him before he waddled off in an awkward grate; cringing at the dampness that seeped into his robes.

Harry on the other hand was more ecstatic than the man, snuggling into the comforting warmth, his little hands grasping onto the material as he cooed. He amused himself greatly by watching the strange man who was practically hyperventilating in his bubble, fogging up the glass as he tore down hallways.

But it didn't take Roswald long to reach his destination, as he used one hand to thrust open a pair of double doors that were obviously more ornament than the rest of the hallways.

Behind the doors laid a dead end hallway, done up heavily in gold, unlike the outside marble and blues the rest of the palace was swathed in. Upon majestic walls were twenty one portraits, ten on each side depicting different individuals, while the last one at the end was a group painting.

Roswald ignored most of them, instead hobbling towards the middle portrait on the left. He glanced between it, and the child who was clinging to him, and he felt his knees go weak with realization on his end.

The similarities between the two were uncanny. The man in the portrait, an older gentleman somewhere in his forties sported the same wild black hair Harry had. His eyes were like bright emeralds, not even a shade different, and he even shared the same cheekbones as Harry!

However, the most damning and oddest evidence was located right above the man's eye. There was an angry pink-like lightning bolt, not unlike the one Harry sported in the exact same spot. However, it was difficult to tell if the lightning bolt was a tattoo or a scar, the age of the painting making it difficult to tell.

But it was enough for Roswald, who looked down at the child with the most amazed yet bewildered look upon his face. There could be no doubt, not in his mind, who this child was.

He, like him, was a descendent from a creator of their world. This child was a Tenryubito by blood! It was the only way to explain the resemblance, and why he would be in their holy land of all places.

As if the wool had been lifted from his eyes, Roswald practically gripped the child in a protective hold, not at all like the awkward one he used on the child earlier.

It was odd, with that little self revelation, Roswald felt a warm feeling spread within his chest. This child, this delicate little, soaked through baby was family. Family was an important thing to him and the other nobles.

Oh sure, they were monsters, undoubtedly so, and he honestly believed everything he did was in his own right. He and his family deserved to own slaves, they deserved to do everything they wanted whenever they wanted, because they were from the very bloodline that created the world.

But while they were arrogant, they weren't fools. Yes they enjoyed intoxicating power, but they could be clever when they wanted or needed to be. There was a reason why the Gorosei hasn't taken full control of their ancestors government yet.

But that was the issue, they were clever, and they knew their reception wasn't well met by a majority, to the point where they'd be murdered if they couldn't contact an admiral. And because of that, all they really had to count on in this world were themselves, and their wealth.

They made sure to take care of each other, and nothing more. To them, the whole world would burn before it could get them or their riches, and this child was undoubtedly one of them.

That made him stall, as he gave the baby another look over. The child was still wet, yet his shivering had calmed down. But he was sleepy, his eyes drooping in a cute manner than made his lips tug upwards.

But it only turned into a frown as he eyed the child's slight lightness. It was obvious to him that someone had tried to harm a child, a Tenryubito child nonetheless. It wasn't as severe as it could be, but still, it looked like someone denied the poor boy a few meals before they tried to abandon him.

Such thoughts made Roswald angry, but he didn't dare clench his fingers, worried about harming his new, precious burden. At least it was early enough that there wouldn't be permanent damage to the child, but he still had to act fast. He didn't think it was healthy to leave a baby wet for an extended amount of time outside of a bath.

He'd make sure this child would have everything he needed, and was comfortable before he went off to destroy those cretins that dared to lay a hand upon a Tenryubito. He'd make sure that nothing was left of them, or their own island.


	2. The Boy Found by Evil

**A/N: Same drill as usual. I don't own Harry Potter or whatever I cross it over with. This time we have a Harry Potter x Kingdom Hearts crossover where Lily's protection isn't enough, and the evil of the Horcrux attracts Maleficent.**

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**The Boy Found by Evil**

Love, love has always been a powerful bit of magic, that much Albus Dumbledore was assured of. He had practiced the arcane arts for well over a century, and in all of his experience, be it the dark magic he dabbled with in his youth, or the bright magic like that of the Patronus spell he practiced regularly, Albus could say that without a doubt he had found no magic purer nor more powerful than that based on love.

It was his absolute belief in such a power that led the elderly wizard to the most bland neighborhood in the middle of the night. It's two story homes looking as though they came out from a cookie cutter, and their yards barely any better.

He had come to this sleepy street in order to drop off his precious burden, a savior to his community. A baby who in the final hour banished, not killed, the Dark Lord. Albus was quite certain on the banished and not killed part, because he knew his old student Tom, known as Voldemort by the community, would have not let himself die so easily.

He had told no others of what he planned to do with the baby savior, who went under the name of Harry Potter. He didn't tell Minerva, who was mourning the loss of the child's parents, nor did he tell Hagrid, the friendly half giant who delivered the child to him.

Any attempt the two had tried to make concerning seeing the child or helping him with his living arrangements were waved off with vague excuses of safety and pleasantries. It was only when they left, reluctantly for the most part, did Albus cancel the disillusionment charm upon the child, before apparating to the neighborhood he was in now.

He had planned on leaving Harry on the doorstep of one Petunia Dursley, the boy's maternal Aunt. He had many reasons for doing as such, instead of taking in the child himself. He didn't want the boy to grow arrogant for being famous before he could walk, nor did he wish for the child to take magic for granted or fall into the prejudices of the Wizarding World. But most importantly, Dumbledore planned on leaving Harry here because it was where he would be the safest.

The reason behind this lied in the protections Lily left young Harry after her unfortunate demise. A protection born from love magic, Albus was certain he could use the protections to anchor a blood ward, one so powerful that it would keep out even Voldemort when he returned in the future.

He had already set them up far before hand, when he had sent Hagrid to meet him back at Hogwarts with young Harry. The only thing left to activate the wards would be for Petunia to take Harry into her own home. The love from the action would seal the protections, and everything would fall into place as far as Albus was concerned.

But he couldn't give Petunia the child from his own arms, the magic wouldn't accept it due to the intricacies. It needed for Harry to be accepted without any prodding or poking. So, he had with much reluctance left the boy on the doorstep, though not without protections. Albus was sure to weave many charms, some to keep him invisible to others besides the occupants until pick up, to keep any baby snatchers away. Another was to keep him both warm and asleep, so he didn't crawl away. And finally a muffling charm was added just in case the child made noises in his sleep. The last was made so others couldn't circumvent the first charm with the noise.

Looking upon the sleeping child, who he had left in a wicker basket, transfigured from a nearby rock, Albus couldn't help but let a fond smile slip upon his face. Harry looked much like his beloved students, with downy raven hair and the most green eyes he had ever seen. It was sad to see him off like this, to not help raise him, but Albus knew it wasn't his place.

Harry's safety came first and foremost to the aged headmaster, and he wouldn't sacrifice it just to make himself happy by raising the boy.

Before the old wizard left though, he withdrew a letter, its envelope yellowed by age. Placing it carefully in Harry's basket, he couldn't help but smile broader, as Harry's little fingers clung to it like a teddy bear.

It was the best thing he could do to inform the Dursley's about what happened, without compromising the activation of the wards.

"Good luck, Harry Potter." He murmured, his bushy beard twitching as he witheld a snuffle he wanted to release. But he didn't. The garishly dressed wizard just gave a small nod to the child, before turning on his heel, a barely audible pop following his apparation away.

It's such a shame that Albus' own belief in love magic would be not only his undoing, but many other worlds as well.

* * *

It was one in the morning, a mere two hours after Albus, better known as Dumbledore, had left. It was also one in the morning when a heavily charmed Harry Potter woke up, screaming in a way that no baby should have ever wailed.

It was laced with a sense of unholy terror, reaching a level that even the loudest of babies wails couldn't reach. It was the sound of someone being tortured. And worse of all, no one could hear baby Harry's cries under the silencing charm Dumbledore had set.

The reason for the cries emanated from none other than his scar, the lightning bolt shape going from its earlier puffy red form to a deep black, as though it were inked. Dumbledore had an idea what Harry's scar was, even from the start. But the man had been assured that Lily Potter's protections would keep the evil taint in it away. After all, love magic was sure to beat even the most wicked of spells, like it did with the Killing Curse.

And in a way, Dumbledore was right. Love magic was incredibly powerful, powerful enough to stop if outright circumvent most dark magic known to wizarding kind. So it wasn't his fault that he trusted so much in the branch, despite it being the most obscure magic known, with many mysteries still surrounding it.

And it was that mystery which would come back to bite him later on. Because love magic was hardly an absolute force. On its own, it was powerful, undoubtedly so. But even love magic could be beat, especially with outside circumstances surrounding it.

It was the wards which were actually causing this horrifying process to young Harry, who's scar was slowly but surely branching out in deep dark lines, looking like blackened, raised veins upon his face.

The wards themselves drew their own power from Lily Potter's love protection, they needed to in order to stay alive. With them in a half complete state, they had no choice but to drain the waning energy from it in order to continue their half life.

The protection itself too was already weak, its power being used to keep the Horcrux in Harry's scar at bay. It would have in time recovered, taking away much of the potential magic power Harry held in his core to sustain itself, but it was far too new to do that, too weak.

And with the wards draining away the protections powers at its own swift rate, just as much as the Horcrux was, it was no surprise that the protections themselves broke under the strain.

And that's what was happening now. Without the protections on him, the Horcrux had reawaken, and began to act with vile intent upon its host. The black ichor was spreading through the child, its foul taint looking for purchase in the child's body and magic before it attacked his mind.

Such strain and darkness upon a baby would undoubtedly kill it, especially once it looked to possess them after tainting their magic. And Harry, prophecy or not, would have died from it like any other child.

It was perhaps luck, or even lady magic herself who looked upon Harry kindly enough to spare him a fate worse than a normal death. It was just too bad for him, or perhaps his future enemies, that they didn't differentiate between good and evil.

* * *

Across the vast celestial bodies which inhabited the universe, a being, on a distant planet gave a distinct but almost too proper 'oo' sound from their seated position in a throne like chair. They were swathed in black and violet colored robes which complimented but clashed against their mint green skin. Their face was sharp, but noble looking with sharp but shapely eyebrows that sat under a cowl that looked vaguely like demonic horns.

They looked like a visage of evil, not even missing the sharp claw like nails which held firmly onto an orbed staff. And in reality, they were evil, a pure incarnation of evil. Because this person was none other than Maleficent, the most powerful and evil woman in the entire known and unknown universe.

The sorcerous woman had been having a rather lax day, afflicting mild villainy across the stars wherever she went. But there was nothing overtly interesting that had happened during the day, or even the entire week.

So when she felt the undeniable taint of magic fouler than most, her curiosity was undoubtedly peaked. After all, it was not every day that magic so dark was able to be felt across the stars, even by her. And being the proclaimed mistress of all that was evil, well, Maleficent felt it would be prudent for her to check out the source of this evil magic, if not for her own gain, then for her own amusement.

So rising with poise out of her seat, she motioned for her raven Diablo to take his customary perch at her side, before she walked forward and towards a wall. However instead of smacking into it like any ordinary person would, Maleficent instead went right through it, a cone of darkness erecting and collapsing around her as she teleported.

Navigating through the darkness that branched the many worlds, it didn't take the sorceress to find her way to the source of this dark taint, and imagine her surprise when she found it came from the least magical looking place of all; which was in fact proven magic-less by her senses, except for one spot by the doorstep of a house that proclaimed itself as number four.

"Well, I must admit this is a...surprise." Maleficent drawled in a controlled voice, a sneer upon her face as she looked at the street, as if it offended her. But she paid no mind to it besides the initial sneer, instead zeroing in on the doorstep of number four.

Striding over in a manner befitting a lady of the court, the evil witch didn't even acknowledge the muffling barrier she passed through, even as the high pitched screaming suddenly invaded her ears and caused her raven to let out a shocked caw.

Instead, she just eyed the bare porch critically, before letting out a bone chilling laugh. "How amusing, do they really think such amateur spellwork would hinder anyone?" She asked rhetorically, before giving a wave of her free arm.

The orb in her staff churned with a sickly green power, that gave a quick but dim flash that sounded much like breaking glass. However, whatever it did was successful, as the charm that kept baby Harry invisible slid away like washed away grime, revealing the squalling child in all his glory.

If Maleficent's was just slightly curious earlier, she was downright interested now. The child in front of her leaked undiluted magical energy that was more powerful than she had ever felt in a child before. But he also reeked of dark evil, an evil she saw plain as day on his forehead and the dark raised lines it made along his skin as it traveled down past his eye and towards his chin.

She knew what was happening, she wasn't the most evil sorceress in existence just by being powerful. The child was infected with a soul, a dark and evil one that while barely was a rival to her, outshone many other villains she saw before. It was trying to infect the child and take him over, but the child's own powerful magic was fighting it back as best as it could, delaying the inevitable.

What happened next would be both a surprise to her, and anyone else that knew her. Maleficent had decided to help the child, taking her free hand and touching the boy's head. If anything, his screams grew louder, but the sorceress ignored it.

Instead, she pulled her fingers up, a line of blackness following it before it popped out of the scar like a worm, wiggling violently. But her green hand grasped it before it could fall on the child.

She eyed the wiggling mass with slight disgust, as it was nothing more than a pitiful soul shard, before looking down at the child. His wails had finally died, the child falling into unconsciousness to the stress, but he wasn't unharmed.

While the scar was gone, the black raised vein like lines remained, branching out from where the scar used to be and ending above the crown of his forehead and down to his chin like half of a mask. It was quite fetching, in her own opinion, sort of like an evil beauty mark if she should say.

It was during this eye over that she spotted something she missed earlier during her viewing, a letter that was crumbled by the child's thrashing.

"My, what is this now?" She purred to herself, Diablo cawing in agreement. She didn't bother to reach down for the letter, her hands themselves full of her staff and the wriggling soul that tried to free itself.

Instead, she used some simple magic to levitate the slightly crumpled envelope towards her face, the letter ripping itself out before unfolding.

She read it carefully but swiftly, each line causing her eyebrow to rise ever so sightly, until she began to laugh.

The letter was as amusing as it was informative. The unconscious child before her was named Harry Potter, and he had apparently saved the wizards of this world from an evil they were too weak to get rid of. To keep him safe, a man by the name of Albus had left him on his Aunt's doorstep, and erected some protections. Protections which obviously failed not even hours after.

But there was more to it than that, Maleficent was far too clever not to see through the lines. The child had some sort of destiny against this dark wizard who murdered his parents and tried to kill him. It also appeared the man did not believe him to be dead, and of course with the soul shard in her hands, it was easy to put two and two together.

Obviously it didn't give her too much in depth knowledge of the situation, but the green skinned sorceress thought she had a good idea. This boy was to be a beacon of light for his community, and would most likely be made to go against this Voldemort character, or someone else. It was amusing as it was revolting.

There were far too many heroes in any world, let alone the whole universe. There hardly needed to be anymore, especially a child with so much magic. Magic that could even possibly rival her own if he applied himself to the study.

But even then he'd be limited, there was only so much that 'light' magic could do, that fool Merlin was enough to show that. He had great power at his fingertips like herself, but he could never beat her because of his reluctance to use the full abilities of magic.

Here Maleficent paused, her eyes widening ever so slightly as she had a revelation. The child, Harry was powerful as she was saying. In fact he had the capability to reach her level, especially since she took the parasite out of him on a whim.

If he was left alone, he would turn into another hero, this Albus figure sounded like he'd make sure of it with the way he talked about it. And even if he didn't interferer, the child's pure magic would influence his decisions, as it did to most magical beings during their childhood until they could control those impulses. And until then it was usually too late.

Yet here she was, the darkest and most powerful sorceress in all of existence, with an unattended future hero. There was no one to stop her from doing anything, nor would anyone know until it was too late. If she wanted to, she could just kill him and he wouldn't cause problems for the darkness.

Yet at the same token, it would be such a waste for a potentially powerful wizard, a wizard who could outshine her. And that's where her revelation took hold. She had never had an apprentice like many other witches and wizards, never finding anyone with the capability to learn what she had to offer.

This child had the potential to learn it all. He could become the next evil, far greater than even she! He could spread misery and darkness amongst the many worlds, choking their life away like a field of brambles.

There were only two things that would be a real challenge, raising the child as he was still too young, and of course the fact that his magic was unnaturally light oriented. The former would be simple enough, and in fact would be for the best. She could install him with her own ideals, morality, mold him into the perfect sorcerer that went beyond even Yen Sid! The idea was very tempting, and she already had decided as much as her analytical mind continued to go over. It was too much of an opportunity to waste.

As for the latter concerning the child, that was easy enough to fix. In fact, she could do so now with the soul shard that had almost wiggled out of her hand.

Giving a wicked grin, the sorceress let out a little chuckle as she gathered the black worm like parasite, before she crushed it in her hand, molding her magic while she did so. An unpleasant shriek reverberated over the silencing charm, which she had left in place, announcing its ultimate demise.

When she opened her palm, there was no worm like entity squirming around. Instead there was an ichor like orb that bubbled unpleasantly. It was the darkness from the foulest magic, but it lacked the soul, the personality that was attached to it. Maleficent had made sure to destroy any remnant of that pesky little thing,

But she wasn't done. She bent down over the child who was blissfully sleeping away, and dropped the black ichor onto the child's body, right over his heart. Where the magic core for every humanoid being was.

Harry thrashed about, his face scrunched, but he did not awake even as Maleficent let lose a cackle. She knew she succeeded. The taint would stain the boys core, the foulest magic changing its bright orientation into something dark and foul, much like her own. She knew his own magic would not influence him towards the light, not anymore. It was too dark, too tainted by what she introduced into him.

He'd be perfect for molding.

Smirking in triumph, Maleficent finally picked up the child with one arm, cradling him in an almost loving parody. "Let's leave, Diablo." She intoned to her raven, who cawed back in an affirmative voice.

She left just as she came, in a portal of darkness that collapsed onto itself. No one would ever know what happened on that night. Not Dumbledore, not the Dursleys, nor anyone in the Wizarding World.

It would only be years later that they'd learn about the unintentional evil they birthed.


	3. Desperation Leads to Madness

**A/N: Redundant drill as usual, I own absolutely nothing from these series, yatta yatta yatta.**

**For this lovely little plot bunny, I decided to cross Harry Potter over with Final Fantasy VIII, in where Harry begins to feel his own mind unraveling from the torture set upon him at fifth year. Desperate to find anyway out, he crosses between worlds to find a place where he would not only be safe, but survive. It's a pity though that this magically powerful savior is practically close to insane. At the very least he'll be able to fit in with the countless other insane Sorceresses on the planet.**

* * *

**Desperation Leads to Madness**

Everything was going to absolute shit, and this time he wouldn't be apart of it. No if, ands or buts.

That was the general mantra that flowed through Harry's head, as he scurried around a dusty, not to mention grimy abandoned classroom, moving the stored furniture to the rooms side. It was barely the beginning of his Fifth year, and he was already done with it, with everything. And he would not just stand idle and let everything go along.

He couldn't if he wanted survive. In fact, he couldn't stay here, it was too dangerous. He would have to leave, escape into the far unknown. Far beyond where the Ministry, Dumbledore, or even the muggles could find him. He would die if he just stayed still.

Harry knew his thoughts were crazy, that he could be going mad or perhaps he already was. And that was partially why he had to flee! Because if he wasn't felled before he went mad, he would surely snap, and put others down.

It was just all a confusing mess, and Harry tried his best to keep his thoughts at bay by preoccupying himself with the preparations for his departure; but even so he was bombarded with snatched of memories that have brought him to this.

He suppose he could say it started with the Occlumency lessons he was made to undergo with one 'Professor', as Hermione has always insisted, Snape. The man had never taught him the art, had never made the effort to, much like he did with his students in his potions class.

Instead the dour man kept yelling for him to clear his mind during each session before brutally using legilimency upon him. At first he noticed nothing truly strange after the brutal attacks, except for the pounding headaches. It was only after the third lesson that he began to feel it, like the giant tapestry that made up his brains and thoughts began to unravel dangerously; turning his thoughts into insubstantial mists that cloaked the beast of madness.

But Harry couldn't heap the blame upon the greasy man, as loath as he were to admit. Because if it was just him, he was sure he'd be able to survive. But everyone was against him, which brought him to object number two in what drove him to his actions now. One Dolores Umbridge.

The woman, a biased ministry member, had quickly become a thorn in his side. When he proclaimed Voldemort was still alive, to warn the poor students and sheep of the Wizarding World, the woman took her anger out on him. She belittled him, and vaguely verbally abused him; nothing he wasn't unused to from his stay at the Dursleys. But then she got bold.

During his first detention with her, which would become one of many, she forced him to use an illegal artifact; a device known as a blood quill. Whatever the user wrote would be cut onto the back of their hands, using the blood from that wound as ink. It was as painful physically as it was mentally, and even now the thought made him itch at the dirty bandage that covered the wound on his hand.

But Harry persevered, he was certain he did! But any attempts to seek help, to outwit the woman went to shambles at every turn. The teachers would tell him to just keep his head down, even his head of house! And his friends were no better. They were in so much fear from that fat tub of lard that they had no care about him, and possibly many others getting tortured by her! Such distressing thoughts and tortures did very little to help his mind, which unraveled further from it, as he was most sure.

But the third, and final nail in the coffin so to speak came from both Dumbledore and his best friends Hermione and Ron, a group of bastards his mind supplied oh so helpfully.

Dumbledore had been ignoring him the entire year, and every other student it seemed. The old man was like a home owner content to watch their entire abode mold over, which the once grand castle Hogwarts seemed to be doing rather quickly.

He would have forgiven the man. He was his mentor after all, he strove to be like the man not that he knew. But it would be the man's own secret words that would damn him forever in Harry's opinion; not that he knew it.

Making his way back from one of Umbridge's torture sessions, Harry had the displeasure of stumbling upon the familiar voices of his friends and Dumbledore in an unused classroom that was down the hall. It was curiosity that drove him to listen to what they said, and what he heard made his insides freeze and his mind unravel itself even a bit further.

Dumbledore expected him to die. He wanted to turn him into a lamb ripe for slaughter, and have Voldemort kill him. What was even worse in his opinion, was that the old bastard had the gall to say he wouldn't 'die', but would come back to life after it. And his friends ate it up like the golden painted shit it was.

It was that moment Harry was done with it all. He would not die for these people, less of all Dumbledore and his lot. They were terrible, atrocious in his opinion. If they weren't sending 'respected authority members to physically torture him, then they were sending teachers to practically mind rape him!

He wouldn't stay here, not in the Wizarding World, and not in the Muggle World; which was tainted by the Dursley's and the equally ineffectual law system.

And this lead him to where he was now in the abandoned classroom, moving furniture around so he could perform this special ritual to escape.

The ritual was simple enough, it would transport him and whatever he brought into the ritual circle to another world. A world that would be compatible to the guidelines he set via similar runic carvings.

Hermione would be practically green with envy over having the knowledge of this ritual. In fact, she'd been envious if she knew about his true self.

Because Harry was hardly stupid. Or well, he wasn't stupid when it came to magic, he amended; as he was a bit average at muggle academics.

He couldn't say what it was, but magic, theoretical and practical just came so easily to him. Each piece fitting together like a well oiled gear that had been memorized at every angle. Even the mind arts would have been easy enough for him to master, if he had the proper materials to learn it. But Snape never taught it correctly other than a screamed command, and any tome on the arts weren't in the library; something he blamed on Dumbledore, due to a slight suspicion.

Not that anyone knew of course, years of being under the Dursley's care had beat any form of 'showing off' or showing any intelligence above a particularly stupid peasant both verbally and even physically at times. But he still prized his knowledge, and magic more so for the constant it was in his life, a constant he was good at.

However still, with such an ability for magic, Harry had hardly been idle at his school; not that many people knew. He had a nasty habit of sneaking out, more so once he got his father's invisibility cloak, and raiding the library at all hours of the day. It was during one of those raids that he found the particular tome detailing this transference ritual; written by an eastern warlock for the purpose as an absolute escape.

An absolute escape Harry was going to use this very night, though not without preparation. He had after all spent the previous week getting materials for his transference, having had the bright idea of using Dobby, who was always more than happy to help the 'Great and Noble Harry Potter Sirs!'. It was such a pity that he never used him much beforehand, it would have made procuring supplies, like the aforementioned mind art tomes, both possible and easy; considering he could hardly go to the ally without any scrutiny.

Back along the previous vein, Harry had used the little elf to buy many things, various tomes from both Diagon and even Knockturn Alley, and even some other more obscure alleys; seeing as he was leaving to a new world, and dark magic or not, he didn't want to limit himself. Especially concerning the fact that he had no idea what the next world over would have in terms of arcane knowledge.

He had also had other rudimentary items purchased, like useful potion ingredients, though not many as he was rather ill adept at the art from Snape's sub-par teaching; his own self study and practice able to go so far. Ritual supplies for the one he was doing, and even other future ones joined the list as well, their expensive nature practically draining his vault.

Which was another thing, he never knew he had more than his trust vault. Sure Harry knew the Potter family was old, but the thought of a family vault was out of thought, thinking he'd have to be of legal age to gain admittance should there be one. Much to his surprise though, there was no such thing, considering he was the very last of his family line; a rather nice loophole he learned after sending Dobby over with a letter to the Goblins explaining the financial situations of letting the House Elf take some money.

Harry only felt a smidgen amount of guilt over the fact that he screwed the Goblin Nation seven ways to Sunday, but he didn't linger on it. After all, the leftover gold and heirlooms did belong to him, and he wasn't just going to leave it behind in a world he left, no matter how the missing money may set back the Goblins and Wizarding Britain's economy.

Other than that, Harry had also made sure to have some food and water put in stasis, despite the meager amount; as he did have no clue where he'd end up after the ritual was done. He also had a few robes bought, all a myriad of colors yet elegant, and enchanted. He was a wizard after all, and what wizard didn't wear robes?

Well, he would suppose those mentally scarred from Dumbledore's obnoxious robes might not wear them. Lost in the distant, and irrelevant thought, Harry barely even noticed the fact that he had finished moving all the furniture around manually, revealing a magic sensitive, runic circle that he had prepped and hidden under there two weeks ago.

In fact he would have continued on his mental tangent if it wasn't for the muffled yells which were groaned from a dark corner, where Harry looked over at with piercing, but misted eyes.

"Oh, you're awake Ron! Sorry about this dreadful mess, I would have cleaned it up, but you know how it is. Busy, busy, busy!" Harry spoke genially, though the tone broke no questions. It was that a madman or madwoman would have, a hysteria that those who were moments from snapping carried. Then again, his mind had been unraveled at a great pace lately, so it shouldn't have been that surprising if he was crazy.

In the corner, the gagged and incarceroused wizard gave a desperate muffled cry of his own, his eyes welling up with slight anger and panic. The tone of his best mates voice scared him on an instinctual level, but his inner rage over what happened earlier warred against his survival instincts; railing over the fact that this had to be a bad prank by the sable haired male.

After all, it had to be a prank. Since no one asks to see you in private before stunning you. That was his opinion at least, and he even tried to ask it through his own gag.

Luckily, or unluckily for him, Harry seemed to somewhat understand if his desperate smile and crazed eyes were anything to go by.

"What are you doing here Ron? Well, I dunno if I should tell...I may get in trouble." He said in a childish voice, his eyes widened dramatically. "But I guess I could tell you. Since I have to wait for Dobby to get back in a minute." He mused aloud, as his face shifted back into its earlier expression.

Making a dramatic wave behind him to the circle, which Ron's eyes locked onto as if it were the first time he saw it, Harry began to explain almost hysterically, "This my bestest mate in the world, is a special circle that'll help me escape this hell I've found myself in! No more Voldemort, no more Dursleys, and no more friends who'd accept my death!"

Ron's face turned into a puce color during Harry's explanation, rage at the fact that his best mate would abandon them because he was chicken. But he paled considerably, trying to shout out excuses or perhaps denials at the last of Harry's words.

Harry himself tutted, wagging his finger in a 'no-no' fashion. "Don't try to act innocent Ronnie-kins, I did stumble upon yours and Dumbledore's little chat a few weeks ago. Which I must say, I am disappointed over. But that wasn't your question, was it?" The sable haired boy asked rhetorically, his eyes clouding with venom at the past event, but clouding over back into their delusional hysteria.

Ron just crumpled a bit, knowing he couldn't win. He didn't feel his wand on his persona, and whatever Harry was going to do, well, he couldn't stop it. He could only hope some teacher, even Snape of all people, walked in and stopped this madness before it began.

"Like I said, this little baby will help me traverse the very fabric of reality itself, sending me to a place where I won't have to deal with all this shit! I made sure to make preparations, getting supplies and other things I may need. After all, you never know what could happen in a new land." Harry explained, only to stop as the slight pop that signaled Dobby's arrival.

The excitable elf had seemingly finished with his preparations, and was wearing both an expression of amazed devotion, yet hesitance. Next to the elf stoof everything Harry had wanting to bring along with him, consisting of three multi-compartment trunks which were enchanted to hold a king's treasury practically, and Hedwig who looked disgruntled at the mode of transportation; but she perched regally on the corner of a chest, loyally waiting in the circle for her Wizard.

Dobby was much the same, waiting in the circle too, as he too had planned to accompany the great and wonderful Harry Potter, who had so graciously bonded with him. It was the happiest moment in the elf's life. However he couldn't help but feel conflicted over the ritual, knowing that it was something his old master would have done. But he wouldn't betray Harry, because he wasn't the same as Malfoy Sr., he was far better. And if this ritual would make him happy, so be it; the thought making his face scrunch up in resolve.

Smiling genially at his two friends, Harry turned back to Ron, the hysterical grin widening ever so slightly as the redhead looked at him warily grunting now and again; his mind wailing at how his friend had to be crazy to even think that he could go between worlds.

"But I'm sure you don't care about that, huh Ron? You're more worried about why you're all tied up, and at my mercies?" Harry asked, which Ron nodded vigorously at.

At this point Harry made a motion to Dobby, who with a determined expression levitated the redhead over into the circle, right into the middle. Harry himself joined his position in the circle, making sure not to bump into the chests. Everything was finally coming together; and Harry couldn't help but be pleased that House Elf magic wouldn't muck with his ritual circle. It made everything so much easier.

Ron, floating in the air, renewed his struggled even more fiercely as an icy dread washed over him. The levitation was unexpected and disorienting, but it wasn't what freaked him out. The position in the circle did, as Ron wasn't much for being in the center of one, knowing what it usually meant since he did grow up in a wizarding family. The fact Harry was rummaging in his robes now, muttering to himself didn't help much.

When Ron saw what Harry was looking for, he let loose a mighty cry, tears pricking in his eyes as his brain began to put things together. After all, a gleaming dagger and a ritual circle made for a glaringly obvious conclusion.

Harry just frowned, looking almost apologetically at Ron as he gripped the dagger tightly; afraid that it would disappear. It was in this moment that everything would be decided, and the tension was made even clearer when verdant green eyes un-hazed into a look of sanity that held nothing but grim determination.

"You understand now, I take it? If I stay here, I'll either end up being a lamb sent to slaughter, or go mad. I would just escape like a normal person, but you know Dumbledore and the Wizards. They won't stop at anything, and if I stay here, they'll find me!" Harry ranted, his eyes pleading.

"There's only one way to escape, and it's this way, I just know it. However, there has to be a sacrifice to open the portal. A blood sacrifice. You were one of my most precious people, the sacrifice itself would empower the ritual even more than the time or setting. I-I will admit that I do not want to do this, but Ron, I'm a survivor. To survive, you have to do things you don't want, and I won't lie, you agreeing with Dumbledore about my death works in my decision."

"I guess, I'm trying to say I'm not sorry...but I am. So, goodbye Ron. May the next adventure treat you right." Harry intoned, and like that, the clarity from his eyes vanished, before he lashed out with the dagger,

Ron's face filtered through emotions. Anger, desperation, sorrow, anger again, bitter guilt, and finally weary acceptance. He knew he could do nothing against his crazed friend, and there was no adult that would come after him. Even Dobby, who looked a bit sick behind Harry, didn't seem all that effected by the dagger coming at him; most likely angry over his 'betrayal' of Harry.

If only his best mate knew the whole story, but it wasn't like he could tell now. Woefully, Ron accepted his fate as the dagger pierced its way through his flesh, and into his heart; causing him to shirk painfully as his life essence bled out onto the floor, and lit up the floor. He could only hope his friend would be happy in the next world, and hope no one would suffer from his impending insanity.

Harry for his part just looked at the floor in excitement, letting go of the dagger as Dobby let Ron drop to the floor lifelessly. Each rune glowed a soft red, converting between purple and blue. It built up brightly, the magic palpable in the air, alerting many teachers to what was happening. But by the time they got there, all that was left was a severely cracked floor devoid of any evidence, with a deceased Ron Weasley drained of all his blood.

They wouldn't find out until tomorrow that Harry Potter had not returned to his dormitory that night, and that the entire Potter fortune itself had vanished from Gringotts.

* * *

Meanwhile the ritual itself had hurtled Harry and his companions through time and space, reviewing the guidelines it caster had set into it. They were as specific yet written in a way only a madman could write.

The new world would have magic, boundless in its splendor. It would be home, home to a Sorcerer of high caliber, as its caster was just that. And finally, the sigel of the protector was written strongly, to guard the castor instead of the other way around.

* * *

Across the vast plains of the universe, a strange but bountiful world secretly quaked in excitement. Another magical being, far surpassing the magical children on its great green plains was coming. A child who it could nurture, and would use its magical abilities more than the Sorceress' that dotted its landscape.

It didn't care that they weren't the most stable of people, as such a mind was familiar to it. It was just excited that it was getting another child. The Sorceress' on the other hand quaked in terror at the feel of powerful magic that welled up in their world.


	4. The Boy Who Became a God

**A/N: You know the drill, I own neither series and everything is up for adoption.**

**For this challenge here, I was inspired a bit by Hajimemashita Kamasama, so I suppose it could be a crossover with that. This time we have Harry who ends up getting the short end or long end of the stick depending on your view, when he's sent to Japan with his Godfather and pseudo uncle Remus on the order of Dumbledore. The Potter luck strikes again, and Harry ends up getting turned into a God of a shrine. And Harry has always wondered why he couldn't have a normal life.**

* * *

**The Boy Who Became a God**

Harry had no idea what he would tell his friends, his godfather, or god forbid Dumbledore. There was just no way he could break this news gently, heck, he didn't know if he could just 'break the news' in any form.

After all, it wasn't every day that someone became a God. And no, not god-like, or looks like a god, but an actual God with immortality and the ability to produce miracles; you know, the whole shebang.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost to him, and had almost caused Harry to laugh himself sick. After all, old snake faced Voldemort had spent years trying to get what he obtained in the span of twenty minutes. It was almost sad really.

Despite the fact that a week had passed since his officially 'you're a god speech!', Harry still could hardly believe how this all had happened. Heck, it still gave him a headache when he thought about it.

It had been a little more than three days after his fourth year, and the disastrous end of the Tri-Wizard tournament, when his Godfather had, out of the blue kidnapped him from his summer stay at the Dursley's; which he wasn't complaining about, but it was a little weird.

Or not so weird, apparently Dumbledore was worried about the effectiveness of the blood wards since Voldemort did end up using his blood in some twisted rebirth ritual. And instead of chancing it, the aged Headmaster had decided to give Harry a sort of 'vacation'.

It actually touched Harry's heart quite a bit at how concerned Dumbledore was over his well being. Until he was told the destination that is. Because out of every country in the entire world, the Headmaster had sent him packing all the way to Japan of all places.

He could understand not leaving him in Europe, since it was rather close to Voldemort's base of operations, but still, Japan? Not that there was anything wrong with it mind you, it's just, Harry would have preferred a country where he could understand what was being said to him.

But the Headmaster just gave that grandfatherly smile at Harry's concerns, and placated him with a little quip about language charms. Oh, and placated him with the fact that he wasn't going alone. His godfather, Sirius Black, and his pesuedo uncle, Remus Lupin would be coming with him.

If that wasn't enough of an inclination to go ahead with this crazy scheme, the Headmaster had to leave behind one more crumb of information about this trip. Harry would be able to use magic, whilst out of school, without the Ministry of Magic knowing.

Apparently the national laws between the two countries were conflicting when it came to underage magic, with Japan allowing their magical children to practice as long as it was out of the public's eye. And since Harry would be staying there for the summer, that meant he'd be subjected to their own laws of magic.

As for the tracker on his wand, it'd still be in place, as it was a powerful bit of magic. But it wasn't an all powerful enchantment, and the distance between Japan and the artifact that recorded each 'improper misuse of magic' would render it rather useless.

It made Harry rather giddy over the fact that he could cast magic outside of school. Since if there was ever one thing he was good at in life, it was magic; not that he particularly showed it. After all, old habits died hard, and the Dursley's never liked it when he refuted their own beliefs; like their staunch thoughts of him being particularly stupid.

So with the promise of being with his godfather plus uncle like figure, and being able to use and study up on some magic, Harry had gone along rather willingly to Japan.

The first two weeks were possibly some of the best in Harry's short life. Sirius had purchased for them a lovely little two story modern Japanese house that had an even lovelier red roof. For the first time someplace other than Hogwarts felt like home, and Harry couldn't be happier.

But it didn't end there. Through judicious use of translation charms, Remus and Sirius, under a glamour for the latter of course, were able to take him throughout the city on various outings. For the first time in his life Harry had felt like he was apart of a family instead of a hanger on as they spent their time going to shops, eating out, or just generally absorbing the fascinating culture they found themselves in.

However those two weeks of blissful fun filled days came to a sudden crash when it came to the last of those activities. And Harry wan still undecided if he'd hex Remus for the predicament he'd later find himself in.

His favorite werewolf uncle had wanted to go see a famous shrine, one they hadn't yet seen. Naturally Harry and Sirius had accompanied him, only to get a shock at the place they ended up.

Itsukushima Shrine was, without a doubt, one of the most amazing muggle buildings Harry had the pleasure to see. Despite being built off the island shore, it was shockingly well taken care of, with very minimal damage to it despite the sea. Then again the shrine had apparently been rebuilt before, but it was nonetheless amazing.

It stayed above water through the use of stilted pillars, giving it the illusion of floating upon water. The only time there wasn't water was during low tide, when people would mill around the water soaked sands in front of the large hall of worship.

It was during that time when Harry and co had visited the shrine, somewhat gawking at it as they wandered outside. Naturally it was that time when fate decided to strike.

Harry had been wondering a bit away from Remus and Sirius, who were caught up in a small conversation with a local; his eyes catching the main portion of the shrine. He had wondered up to it, looking at the three stone lanterns that stood like a makeshift gate. His attention was only diverted for only a minute really, and when he turned around, he was surrounded.

Well surrounded wasn't the right term. Behind him stood three girls, sisters if their facial features were anything to go by. But that wasn't the most shocking thing. They looked almost frighteningly like him, with the same shade of raven hair that looked like it could barely be tamed, emerald colored eyes, and even the same shade his skin tone was. Only their facial features were really that different, as the women held the same small body structure that Harry had.

However, before Harry could say anything the girls were already on him. The two youngest had grabbed him by his shoulders while the eldest stood in front of him, all of them inspecting him in ways that made him uncomfortable.

They pulled on his hair, tugged at his new clothing courtesy of Sirus's buying spree, and even pinched his skin painfully; though they looked at his scar appreciatively, which scared him a bit. Their speech was rapid, to the point that Harry could barely understand them; the translation charm unable to handle the influx of words.

Harry did try to pull away, but the two girl's grips were like iron, not wanting to budge at all. He did try to shout, even make a ruckus, but that failed rather spectacularly. The girls themselves giving him a mischievous shush as they smiled mysteriously. That didn't bother him as much than the fact that no one seemed to be acknowledging what was happening at all, especially with his own shouts.

The muggles, heck, even his godfather just completely ignored the scene, like they couldn't see it. If Harry didn't know any better he'd say that the girl's put up some form of muggle repelling wards; which was proven wrong by his godfather's ignorance of it all.

A feeling of dread creeped up Harry's spine at the occurrence, and he was slowly inching his hands towards where his wand was holstered when the girl's seemed to just suddenly stop.

The two younger ones stood by his side, looking up at the eldest with expectant looks. And then she had to utter that one sentence that would damn him to this whole ordeal.

"He'll be more than adequate."

The two youngest screamed in joy before they grabbed him again, rushing him off towards the temple despite his pleas; the eldest trailing behind them with a half amused expression.

Again everyone seemed to practically ignore them despite the joyous chatter and pleas, as they rushed him up into the main sanctum; where Harry was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be at all.

And that's when everything began to get weirder.

It started with them entering the inner shrine, where the most peculiar feeling washed over Harry, kind of like when one walked through the barrier at platform nine and three quarters. And it was quite similar too, considering the inner shrine opened up into a luxurious hallway that was done in golds and reds. Depicting various oceanic markings and storm murals.

It was as beautiful as it was confusing.

But the women were seemingly at home as they maneuvered him down the empty corridors, and into the inner sanctum of whatever this hidden place was. Much like the corridors the inner sanctum was beautiful, even more so. With water and plants flowing around a middle table area, like an oriental tea garden in a way.

The two women sat him down at the table in the middle, smiling and tittering as their eldest sister came up behind them. And once the trio was whole did they do something which shocked Harry even more.

They kissed him. On the forehead. All three of them.

Harry would have blushed bright red if his magical core didn't feel like it was expanding at a phenomenal rate.

It was a feeling of almost euphoria as the foreign power filled up his being, snapping bonds that didn't feel so much man made as they were natural. It was almost as if a locked away potential was just suddenly released. And the girls, who were smug as a bug in a rug just gaped almost unattractively.

It served those weirdos right in Harry's opinion.

Or so he thought until the girl's began to explain, in a way he could understand for once. A shocker for Harry since the translation charm was dispelled upon the welling of his new power, which hummed happily in the back of his mind. He would later theorize that his new position had something to do with his understanding of the foreign language.

That aside, the eldest was the one to explain both their plan, and the reason for their shock behind what happened.

Apparently they were Gods, scratch that, Goddesses; a claim Harry would refute, but with all the weirdness he could probably make some exceptions, though he believed them to be more like a magical creature than an actual deity.

Anyhow, they were the daughters of the god Susanoo, and because his high position they were given a shrine to worship them. Due to circumstances out of their control it appeared that their shrine became even more popular than they'd initially assume, and soon they were swamped under various prayers and working between the mortal and spirit world.

Add to the fact that these three Goddesses were pretty much teenagers in looks and attitudes, well, they became rather tired with everything. Deciding to spice things up, the three sisters decided to take a vacation, but first they needed a little substitute.

A substitute which was to be him. Apparently his bright green eyes and lightning mark was appealing to them. Add to the fact he had magic, something which was considered rather rare and beneficial just cemented their conviction. Joy.

They had planned on making Harry into a receptacle. Not necessarily a true god, but sort of a temporary stand in who could perform the jobs a god did through the energy in the lands. That way they didn't go mad with power and they could simply cut them off when they returned back from their little sabbatical. It was quite a common practice amongst some gods.

But the infamous Potter luck struck and his magic took to the position a little too well. Instead of turning him into a receptacle of their land's power, they somehow ended up turning him into a full on deity.

It was frustrating. However what was even worse was the fact that after the girls had come clean with him, they ran off. Real God or not now, they planned on leaving him with the shrine, though now it seemed they could leave it with him for longer.

Before they left, the girl's had shouted about their servants showing the ins and outs of the job. And then poof, gone. Harry was left alone in the garden.

Like any natural human, or God now, Harry tried to find his way out, but luck wasn't on his side that day. He was accosted by a strange little creature, who acted much like a house elf, except for Gods.

It called itself Roku, and the little blue cyclopes looking creature had tugged him back into the inner sanctum, rambling on about his job and what he had to do. It would have been somewhat cute, in a Dobby like fashion, if it didn't continue to infuriatingly rant about what a good God he'd be. It also didn't help how he praised Harry like Dobby; apparently becoming an actual God was a big deal.

It ended up being a long night as the tiny bugger explained more about what a God does, as well as planning without his permission what he was to learn; no complaining on his end about his Godfather or the fact that he needed to go back seemed to work on it. He'd have to go through the demented little thing's training before he could leave it seemed.

Bugger it all, and this Roku fellow too. Sadly the sable haired boy couldn't stay too mad at the little blighter. He was too much like Dobby to even do so. The thought of using any form of magic against him, or to get out completely escaping his mind.

Though Roku was at least a bit helpful as night came up, he had lead him to a rather lavish room done in reds and golds. The Gryffindor colors were almost as comforting as the bed, which he fell into without abandon; finding only a fitful sleep that night.

The next day was a bit more exciting, with the servants of the shrine returning; apparently having been ordered away so they didn't scare the substitute too early. They were a rather varied bunch of women and men, who's only shared look was that they were all vaguely aquatic in some fashion. Some looked remarkably like humans, beautiful and handsome, while others looked as foul as the mermish; though Harry didn't discriminate.

After all, they may be strange, but he wasn't one to ever discriminate on race. No matter how much the bipedal fish man scared him.

They were a rather likable bunch, and a bit more subdued than Roku. However like the little blue skinned being they were rather respectful towards him, especially with how Roku ranted about his 'amazing transformation'. Harry didn't think he'd ever get used to their polite bows and amazed exclamations.

It was during that morning breakfast, which was more like a feast rivaling that of Hogwarts, did Harry meet three more people that would end up making his transition into Godhood more annoying.

They were none other than the Komainu who guarded the previous Goddesses of the shrine, each one more different than the last, in both personality and looks.

The first of the dog spirits, and the most likable one in Harry's opinion was Masaru, who used to guard the 'middle child' so to speak of the trio. The man could easily fit that 'big dumb ol' dog' trope to a T. He was large, unnaturally so to Harry's petite frame, with shaggy brown hair and dog ears, one of which sometimes flopped over cutely. His skin was rather tan, and his face never missing a big smile that widely stretched his cheeks.

He was very sweet, but sadly seemed to lack a bit in the intelligence department. However that didn't stop him from trying to do his best. Or stop his new loyalty to Harry, the last which kind of scared him. Apparently being a substitute entitled you to all the previous God's 'possessions', or their servants in blatant terms; since apparently some never do come back from their 'vacations'. The last part almost gave Harry a heart attack, but he was a trooper and he wouldn't be taken down by that knowledge.

The second of the Komainu that Harry met, much to his displeasure, was Kenji. As the eldest sibling's komainu, he was the complete opposite to Masaru. For example his hair was rather short and was a shocking silver color that complimented his skin; which was lightly tanned. His eyes themselves were slate grey in color, and seemed to scowl at anything.

He was rather obnoxious in a Snape fashion, spouting off on what a terrible replacement Harry was and generally making disparaging comments much to many others embarrassment. He was generally very un-compliant when it came to anything, and generally tended to mock the new god, despite the oddity of his transformation.

As much as Harry himself would have loved to lay into the Komainu, he resisted temptation. Because while he may be smug and arrogant in his own skills, he had nothing on Snape's poisonous tongue. And while Harry may dislike it, Snape wasn't arrogant about his own skills, which this holy beast seemed to be.

However everything has to come to a head one time or another, and this came in the form of a surprising 'magic lesson' that happened down the line; no one getting the memo that he was a wizard before hand.

By the time Harry had been informed of these 'lessons' and remembered that he could use magic to escape, he had begun to feel too guilty just to leave the spirits who wondered the Shrine. Roku had guilted him quite expertly in what would happen if he left, from violent land grabs or even a war in their world.

Harry had enough of war to just let that happen, or let these poor beings get caught up in it.

But that was besides the point. It was during the first lesson Roku had arranged with another spirit, a yokai well versed in the arts, when Harry himself had finally let his annoyance at Kenji.

The white haired Komainu had decided to sit in on the lesson with the other two, and decided it'd be fun to mock Harry about being useless.

Suffice to say, Kenji was both surprised and afraid when the new God decided to show him exactly how 'useless' he was, by wandlessly transfiguring Kenji into a mouse before conjuring a cat.

Suffice to say both Harry and Kenji learned something during that lesson. The Komainu had learned a healthy dose of fear, and then respect for his new 'master'. Much to Harry's dismay the Komainu had two firm thoughts. The first of which was that, 'The great God Harry Potter spared me! I'm not worthy of his mercy!', followed by 'I will protect you forever!'. Again, joy.

As for Harry, he learned something rather new about his new 'godhood', like the fact he could perform Magic wandlessly. Not only that, when he decided to look into it, he noticed the rather obnoxious increase in his power level, as 'befitting of his station', as many others said. The only downside was his control was shot to hell, and his spells seemed to overpower themselves. But it could be fixed with practice.

The last, and actually the youngest of the Komainu Harry had the somewhat pleasure of meeting was Sho, who he couldn't make heads or tails of. Unlike the other two Sho was rather lithe, not to mention paler. His hair was spiky mess of black hair that matched mischievous coal black eyes.

In a way he kind of reminded Harry of a dangerous mix between Ron and the Twins, which was both refreshing but a headache. He had the same mischievous streak as the two infamous Weasley Twins, and tended to prank both his two cohorts and the servants that milled in the shrine rather ruthlessly.

However sadly his mischievousness was mixed with quite a bit of jealousy, which reminded him much of Ron. Now Harry really did care for his best mate, he was after all his first friend ever. However, Ron was without a doubt a jealous prat at times, which was luckily getting better. Though it was easy to tell that trait was bred from years of being under his brother's shadows, and his sister's babying.

Sho was much the same way, his jealousy seemed to be a result of him not wanting to be in the two older Komainu's shadows, and he always tried his best to outdo them. Either by being a better guard, or by making Harry laugh.

It would have been sweet if it wasn't so annoying. But it could have always been worse at the least.

Still, with these three unique Komainu, and Harry being schooled in what he should expect by being a God now, which luckily enough was much more condensed at his admittance to knowing and going to magic school, Harry's week was booked solid.

Now with it being the end of the week, Roku had seemed to deem it kind enough to finally 'show you how to get out of the shrine', now that he underwent the 'mandatory lessons'.

He would finally be able to find Sirius and Remus who had to be worried sick, since Harry was only able to send them a brief letter courtesy of a helpful servant who looked relatively like a human woman.

Harry just wished he knew how he'd break the news to them all.

That he couldn't just turn his back on these people, who put their trust and faith in him.

It really was a pain.


	5. The Boy Who'd Change the World

**A/N: I own nothing, etcetera, etcetera.**

**For this little lovely challenge today, I have a Tales of Grace/Harry Potter crossover. I was actually really conflicted on who to choose as Harry's reincarnation, but in the end Emeraude won out. So in this little challenge Harry is Emeraude's reincarnation, and awakens his past memories and self after his brush with the killing curse. Stuck in a new world devoid of Eleth, yet rich in a greater power, Emeraude, or Harry as she's called now, will surely make her dream of recreating Fodra on Earth. From its humanoid servants to advanced cities, she won't let anyone get in her way.**

* * *

**The Boy Who'd Change the World**

Reincarnation wasn't a perfect process, not by far. It wasn't uncommon for abilities or memories to crossover into a soul's new body. Heck, it wasn't even strange for someone to just 'continue' after they died; albeit in a new body and oftentimes world, but the sentiments were pretty much the same.

So it was no surprise that Harry Potter experienced one of these blips when Lord Voldemort cast the killing curse upon him once upon a time. Both the Dark Lord, and the community at large believed that the curse itself failed, that he in some miraculous display of magic was able to reflect the deadly spell.

But they were wrong, because Harry did die that night.

His body may have been living, undoubtedly so when Dumbledore had placed him upon his Aunt's doorstep. But the sense of self, the tiny little seed that was waiting to grow up into a person of complex personality was gone. And in its place stood something far older, far wiser, and much colder than the originally sapling.

It was in that night when Emeraude had re-awoke, and took the place of her reincarnation.

* * *

Six years had passed since then, and Harry, who privately still referred to himself as Emeraude despite the gender change, still didn't know what to make of his situation.

He had a vague idea of why he was here of all places, reincarnation wasn't after all too far fetched of an idea after what he saw in his previous life. But the circumstances regarding why he was well, still Emeraude, eluded him. Considering you weren't supposed to have any memories pertaining to your past life.

Identity crisis aside, there were many other difficult things to grasp in his new situation. Like the planet he found himself on. Earth, as it was called by its inhabitants was far different than he was even used to. Compared to Ephinia, the place was quite advanced globally. However compared to Fodra his old home planet, it was dreadfully obsolete.

But what was both frustrating yet curious to the reincarnated scientist was the Eleth of the world. Or to be more precise, the lack of it. In his past life, he along with every person of his race had been lead to believe that a world could not sustain life without Eleth; which was shown to be true when Fodra's core was transferred into Ephinia, and his home planet withered away.

Yet here on Earth, there wasn't even a trace of Eleth to be found. And he did try to track it down, creating a crude mimicry of his home planet's technology in secret from mundane materials. Yet despite the lack of Eleth the planet thrived, no matter the destructive nature of its inhabitants.

It was just as confusing as it was infuriating to Harry. Because despite him, or more like Emeraude being reincarnated, he still held true to his old life. He still missed Fodrian society, its people, and its glory. He missed the wonderful luxurious lifestyle that was provided to everyone before the downfall, but most of all he missed the discoveries of his home world.

But there were many things that he hated, and was glad to be rid of. Lambda was a prime example of this. Harry hated it with a passion, a creature who shouldn't have even existed, a beast who committed genocide upon his very planet. It did nothing but wrought destruction, and when Harry tried to use it for the greater good, the thing had the gall to destroy the humanoid body he used as a host.

Asbel and his little group also wouldn't be missed by Harry. Sure, in death he understood he may have been a bit hysterical when he confronted them when possessed with Lambda, but that gave them no right to go against him. After all, they and everyone else on Ephinia owed their life to the Fodrian's, like himself. They should have been honored that they could have revived the once glorious empire and planet.

But instead they didn't. They called him crazy and fought back against him as if he would have killed them all off; which was hardly true. He would have to bring the human population back to Fodra to repopulate it once again, and of course to use as the basis for a superior race by using Lambda's own power.

They were just as much responsible for the death of Fodra as Lambda was in his opinion. But hope wasn't necessarily lost to Harry.

After all, his reincarnation had the boon of setting him on a thriving planet. It may not have been the original thing, but in time Harry was certain he could change Earth into the next Fodra; a greater Fodra.

Fodra wasn't just a planet after all. It was an Empire, a society, a way of thinking, a way of living. It would be a lot of work, especially since he didn't have Lambda's power at his disposal, or even Eleth which could be used to power his old society's technology. But he could adapt them, and use them as a way to usher in a new era.

And he had been working towards his ultimate goal little by little since he could walk. But even as a child everything wasn't all sunshine and daisies. There were many different things that hampered his plans.

The first and foremost were his relatives in this life, the Dursleys. They were vile people, resembling animals more then humans, and each had a deep sated desire to be normal. Yet for all their rants about being normal they were severely abnormal, sporting a heavy intolerance that would make even the most racist of Fodrian's balk in horror.

Worst of all that intolerance seemed to be solely focused on him, through snide remarks about his parentage or scathing gossip about how he would end up being a problem child.

For most of his younger years they had shunted him off to a storage closet under their stairs, 'cupboard' they called it, denying him enough food to be uncomfortable but not enough to starve; afraid of some mysterious man Harry wouldn't learn about until he was four.

But Harry was fine with it, in fact it was preferred. The private nature of his 'room' was useful to him, as it allowed free reign for him to experiment with the materials available on this new planet.

Naturally he was limited to supplies he could find around the Dursley house when he was let out, but it was more than enough for him. He was able to replicate various crude devices available to his race with some creative engineering on his behalf. In fact, it actually helped him in theorizing what needed to be done to adapt more advance technologies over.

The lack of food was an inconvenience, but was easy enough to remedy. One advantage to not being an actually baby mentally wise paid off with advanced motor control; not that he could perfectly walk, being barely one when he came to the Dursley home. But with some work he was able to walk without having to worry about falling onto his butt every few seconds without some form of support.

Which in turn made it easier for him to sneak out, albeit clumsily, during the nights to nick some food should he desire it.

In the long run, Harry's overall compliance lasted until he was at least three years old, at which time he decided to tip his hand when the Dursley's decided to dip more of their scorn upon him.

His relatives thought it would be a good idea for him to do their menial tasks around the house. Harry on the other hand thought it would be a smashing idea to alert the local authorities about their blatant child abuse.

Who knew that Petunia's little home tea parties could be so enlightening about this world worked, socially or legally.

The rest of that day wasn't very pretty. For the Dursley's that was.

Petunia had paled rapidly at his statement while Vernon had purpled and all but shouted how no officer would believe 'a lying freak like him', before smugly saying how he had no proof.

Harry was delighted to show how wrong Vernon was by showing him quite a few pictures of his slightly underfed body and documentation of the house; to show that yes, he lived in the cupboard under the stairs and no, the guest room or Dudley's secondary bedroom was not his room. It was quite useful figuring out how to use the Polaroid they had.

He was also delighted to introduce Vernon to some good old Fodrian technology; the electric baton.

Suffice to say his relatives were severely cowed by his threat, and didn't bother to make demands. Or well, he never gave them the chance to that was.

With the damage done by their confrontation, Harry could not longer afford to sit aside. Because as much as he hated it, without any Eleth he was particularly weak, and physical weaponry can only go so far. Since he wouldn't be surprised if Vernon destroyed any physical evidence, or even technology he had on hand during an unguarded moment.

So Harry did what was natural for him, or well, natural for him when he was Emeraude. He made a place for himself in society.

It was surprisingly simple. In fact, he didn't even have to work for it that hard, despite being just three. It was easy enough to get himself noticed as a prodigy by the community; and it was even easier to get himself into college, and even graduate from it.

Then again he did have the unfair advantage of having live in an advanced society in his previous life; and despite the differences in technology they did have classes in science and math.

But that was a moot point really; since Harry had no qualms with using everything at his disposal. And he was happy about it, because with his status as a prodigy, a rather large one in the scientific community, he was left alone by Vernon; who knew he was untouchable by this point.

Life was pretty good that year. Not only had Harry procured himself a high position, but now there were so many resources at his disposal to research with; things he wouldn't have been able to get at the Dursley home. Not only that, he was also starting to cultivate various alliance with colleges as well, which would be important if he wished to influence this world into a new Fodra.

However the real excitement didn't start until he was four years old, an entire year after he came out as a prodigy.

It was a dreary day at Privet Drive, which Harry was still subjected to live at; though with better conditions at the very least, as Vernon and Petunia gave him Dudley's second bedroom in fear of the media backlash if his home life was known.

However despite the better accommodations, the Dursley's still didn't much care for Harry's company, and did as much as they could not to see the 'boy', as they called him more commonly now.

It was on that dreary day that the Dursley's conveniently 'forgot' Harry as they took their precious little 'Diddums' and his friends to the local aquarium for some fun.

It was also on that dreary day that Harry was suspicious, and conveniently forgot it was 'impolite' to snoop. Since he was rather curious about vague comments his Aunt had made on a few off occasions.

His conveniently forgotten manners made him win a jackpot of information when he found a letter, which was made with outdated parchment, stashed away in his relative's rooms. And this little letter revealed a great many a thing. From why he was living with his relatives to even the truth about his parents; the latter of which was slightly shocking.

But what was even better, was that Harry learned exactly why there was no Eleth in this world; or so he would later hypothesis why.

It appeared that the acting force in this world was something called magic.

Naturally Harry interrogated his Aunt when she came home from the trip; considering the letter was both short yet evasive on what he wished to know.

She provided to be a useful goldmine of information on this magic.

Apparently magic was actually just that, magic. Unlike the Artes of her world, which were mystical abilities made possible through the power of Eleth, magic was something more internal.

It was a power that was apparently wasn't present in all, and those who had it called themselves wizards and witches. However it appeared that this magic was far more powerful, and more versatile than Eleth.

It could be used to do many different things, from mundane levitating, to even turning inanimate objects into living things; if her Aunt's rant about turning tissue boxes into rats was anything to go by.

And it seemed that Harry himself was a wizard as well.

This information presented many possibilities to him.

It seemed he no longer had to care about the lack of Eleth, or even adapting the technologies of his old planet over. If this power was anything like his Aunt made it sound like, he could use it to his own advantage. He could use it to fuel advanced technology such as the ones used to make humanoids, their flying ships, or even floating cities.

He could improve on the technologies. The possibilities were endless.

Best of all, the power was his, and his alone. He wouldn't have to fall back on a creature like Lambda. He wouldn't have to worry about subtly influencing the world through introducing technology and social behaviors over time.

Yes, everything would go much smoother with the use of magic.

And Emeraude, now Harry, would surely achieve their dream.

They would make a new Fodra, a better Fodra. Where they themselves stand as a god and weave the tapestry of history to their tune.

The Wizarding World, heck, the entire world at large had no inking to just what kind of monster was unleashed by a careless act of magic.


	6. A Zealous Study in Magic

**A/N: Alright, you know the drill, I own nothing except for this one wooden penny! Also, on a quick note I wanted to give a quick thanks to those lovely two reviewers who complimented my plot ideas. Thank you guys!**

**And okay, for today's crossover we have a nice little Harry Potter/Chrono Trigger piece, in where Harry Potter vanishes from his world just days after being left at his Aunts, and through some strange power winds up in the middle of Zeal. Raised by a typical Zeal couple, how will Harry turn out when Dumbledore, or heavens forbids Lavos, sends the young savior back to his world? Especially when there are frightening parallels between the Wizarding World pureblood groups and Zeal itself.  
**

* * *

**A Zealous Study in Magic**

Harry gave a bark of a laugh, his little five year old hands clapping in joy as a wide smile stretched his cheeks. Nearby a few other children followed his lead, laughing up a storm at the humorous site in front of them.

Said site happened to be a short man-like being, who kept trying but failing to get up; as if it kept stepping on a stereotypical banana peel or a puddle of oil.

Unlike its audience this being was obviously not human, with deep green skin that had no trace of hair, not even on its head. Other than its skin, it had an irregular number of fingers and toes; three in all. And to top it all off, its ears shot up into a dramatic point, like elfin ears from legend.

But the creature wasn't anything of legends, after all, Fiends weren't even natural born creatures. They were living constructs birthed from magic, made to serve the Enlightened Ones in the floating Kingdom of Zeal.

And that's what this current fiend was doing, serving its creators by making entertainment for their children; not even minding the pain which bloomed when it fell over once again, though in a more elaborate fashion.

Harry gave another laugh at the hilarious face the Fiend made when he fell over again, this time on his back. The once sable-now light blue, haired boy's cheeks were tinged pink from laughing so hard, just like all the others around him.

He would have continued watching the show with fever if he wasn't interrupted by a familiar, twinkling female voice.

"Harry, darling, I'm here!" A woman called out as she entered the room that acted as both a playroom and daycare for some of the younger kids; the enclosed space no less ornate than the rest of Zeal. The Lamia fiend who acted as the caretaker gave a low boy to the woman, a humble greeting slipping forth in a lispy hiss.

The woman had a lovely appearance, with alabaster skin that complimented a dark blue dress which was lined with even lighter blue fur. Her hair, which was an even lighter shade of blue was held up in a severe bun, the curly locks looking as though they protested the hairstyle. However it was her eyes that were the most defining trait, the muddy green orbs swirling with warmth as she looked over at the child.

"Mommy!" Harry cried with joy when he spied the woman, tearing his way across the room and latching into a hug around the woman's dress covered legs.

Said woman just smiled pleasantly, bending over slightly to give a kiss to the little boy's forehead; relishing in the somewhat exasperated but still loving 'yuck' sound he made. It was just adorable.

However before she could get any further that Lamia spoke up from the side, causing the woman to frown at her; her once warm eyes tinged with annoyance.

"Will you be taking little Harry home for the day, Lady Meredith?" The Lamia asked politely, but redundantly; as her job forced her to be absolutely sure when a child was being taken out of her care, just in case of a misunderstanding.

"Of course I'm taking my son out of here Fiend." The newly named Meredith sniffed at the fiend somewhat sarcastically, before doing a complete one eighty and smiling pleasantly at her child.

"Come on Harry, lets go home back to Daddy!" She chirped to the boy, who cheered and began to gleefully lead his mother away from the room and the other children; not even paying a lick of attention to anyone else as he babbled away to his mother, who looked nothing less than amused by her own little boy's bubbly nature.

However despite her amusement, Meredith couldn't help the amazement that filled her every time she looked at the little boy, her little boy. He was the little miracle in her life, a miracle she thought would never happen in all her thirty six years of life. And yet despite her disbelief here he was, with white blue hair and sparkling emerald eyes that put hers to shame; not that they had always been that way mind you.

But it stood nonetheless that she had a child, and she could still remember that magical day when he came into her care.

* * *

It was a chilly morning in Zeal, not that chilly weather was unusually in the kingdom, and Meredith was performing her daily ritual of drinking tea in her garden. Her husband Alden had left for Kajar earlier that morning, having to attend some work over there.

It really was a mundane day, if rather subdued. Meredith had spent most of the previous night with her husband, lamenting, screaming, and crying over her own inability to bear a child. All the stress being heaped up upon them to have an heir had finally came to a head and she had just broke down that night over her own shortcomings as she distastefully called them.

It wasn't a pretty night, and she didn't even look all that pretty either despite the argument taking place last night; the stress of it all making her skin look stretched and sallow. But Alden, bless that man, had stayed with her and acted as her support, no matter how much she wailed in grief or shot off painful spells at him in her irritations.

But it was a new day, and Meredith was more than happy to forget her issues in the monotonous daily rituals she performed.

However. fate. or more like magic, seemed to have different ideas for her.

Just when her servant, a Blue Imp she had yet to name, was going to pour her some tea, there was a terrible wail that shook through her house and out in the gardens. It would have been less horrifying if the intense swell of magic didn't accompany it.

If she didn't know any better Meredith would have sworn someone was turning a child into some magic charged bomb; the very thought of causing her to still with fear.

But there was no boom, nor any other noises one associated with destructive magic following the swell. Only the wailing remained when the concentration of magic began to dissipate into general ambient magic that surrounded Zeal.

Even so Meredith didn't even dare to move, and her servant Fiends followed her example. At least, until she recognized what could make such a terrible wailing noise.

A child, no, a baby.

Her sharp intake of breath at the realization made her chest hurt, the chilly air reminding her that it was not a good idea to hold your breath at all for any extended amount of time. But she didn't care, how could she when there was a baby in her house wailing in unholy agony.

She had torn out of the garden, easily entering and navigating the ornate halls of her abode as she skittered across the marble floors in her heeled shoes; which in retrospect wasn't all that easy. She had a few slip ups, especially when she tried to rush up a pair of stairs, but it was worth it when she found the source of said wailing.

There, in a room adjacent to her and her husband's quarters, surrounded by a few Fiends was a small little baby in the strangest cloths she had ever seen, clutching a little red blanket.

What had followed was a whirlwind of action. Meredith had ordered the fiends away, more like shouted really, before scooping up the tiny, wailing baby into her arms; trying to give it comfort and stop its wailing.

She didn't know it at the moment, but when that little child finally hushed his crying, and looked at her with large, tearful emerald eyes; well, she fell in love. There really was no other way to explain it.

She also learned a few other things from picking up the child, such as it was a male; though that took some creative tinkering with the weird clothing to figure out. She also found his name to be 'Harry', if the golden stitching on his baby blanket was anything to go by.

It was rather mundane information to find, but nonetheless important. Especially when the Gurus of all people had practically barged into her house after she quieted down the child; throwing around questions as if they were candy.

They were apparently worried over the abnormal swell of magic at her residence, as it had been felt across all of Zeal. That bit of information was shocking to say the least, since the last magic swell like that only happened when they raised their great kingdom above the clouds if history was to be believed.

Naturally she showed them the baby and explained to the best of her ability what had happened on her home front, at least what she knew. However it did very little good.

It only brought up more questions than answers, though the Guru's were able to theorize on some matters. The swell had in all likelihood teleported the child into the manor, as there was no other way to explain his sudden appearance. However as to the nature or cause of the swell they couldn't tell, though Gaspar looked rather suspicious; but he never voiced his thoughts.

Without being able to discover much, the Guru's had left, though not without a promise to return at a later date to see if the swell caused anything else in the abode. After that, Meredith was left alone with little Harry, the tiny child sleeping in the crook of her arms.

But one good thing did come from the Guru's appearance. In their search for an answer they did find one important thing about the baby. The child was magical, he was an Enlightened One like they were.

Perhaps it was her breakdown from last night, or just the desire to have what she had been denied for years, but with that knowledge what happened next came with very little surprise.

She and her husband had taken Harry in as their son, as it was obvious by the child's own appearance that he wasn't from any Zeal couples. She didn't even need to browbeat Alden into it, the man had wholeheartedly dived into the suggestion after laying his eyes on Harry's own emerald orbs.

It would be one of the best decisions both of them had made.

* * *

Years had passed since then, and they have been magical, pardon the pun, if Meredith had any say in it.

Though without a doubt, one of the most happiest moment in those years was when Meredith and her Husband were able to make Harry a full member of their family. The Guru's, who had spent time in their home trying to solve the mystery surrounding Harry had offered a way to make Harry a 'true' part of their family with some new magic.

They accepted with some hesitance, after all Harry was their child, blood or not. But apparently that didn't matter with the Guru's magic, as they created a new potion based spell they labeled as a 'blood adoption'.

The potion apparently would combine one or two bloodlines into a third party; essentially making the receiver the 'child' of the user by giving them their bloodline. Well, the magic the Guru's used was more effective than Meredith thought because when it was all well and over, Harry actually looked as though he really was their child.

His once sable hair was replaced with a light blue, a shade that both she and their illustrious Queen shared; it was quite beautiful. His skin had also paled into the shade that was common for those who lived above the clouds. There were a few other subtle changes to the child as well, from the way his eye shape took after hers while his nose and ears were shaped much like her husbands.

There was one thing that didn't change about Harry, and Meredith was quite happy with it. Because those emerald eyes bright with magical power didn't deserve to be changed into her more muddy colored orbs or her husband's soft blue. They were just too beautiful to be covered up.

That was another thing that came to not only her shock, but even the Guru's. Harry for a child was pretty powerful, powerful enough to make Melchior do a double take when he was observing her child's magic.

And like any doting mother the information made her preen in satisfaction. After all, her little Harry was special, and it went without her saying.

So lost in her thoughts, Meredith almost didn't notice when Harry tugged lightly on her dress, a grin across his face. Looking somewhat amused, if a little hesitant, the woman answered with a little, "Hmm?" wary of what her mischievous kid could ask.

"Mommy, can we go see daddy before we go home?" The five year old asked cutely, his emerald eyes wide at the prospect of not only seeing his dad, but also the exciting architecture of Kajar.

Meredith laughed, her eyes warming up as they twinkled down at her kid. "I dunno honey, do you think daddy would want to see us?" She asked with a conspiratorial wink, which Harry replied to with a happy "Yeah!"

Laughing, Meredith hauled up her precious cargo, who squealed in excitement at the change of height, before teleporting out of the building she was in.

Sometimes magic was so useful.

* * *

Meanwhile, in another world Albus Dumbledore couldn't help but fret as the various monitoring devices still refused to activate, no matter how much he recasted the spells on them or waited.

Harry Potter had been missing for four years, disappearing only a scant few days after he left him on his Aunt's doorstep.

The aged wizard had no idea what happened, but he needed to find Harry quickly, before his time for Hogwarts approached. After all, if he was right, the fate of their and the muggle world depended on the poor boy.

He could only hope that the boy was being raised in a way that would make him tolerant to other races, and be amicable to muggles.

Oh how wrong Dumbledore was.


	7. Flames of Magic

**A/N: I own nothing here, though I kinda wish I had a cookie or two.**

**Alright, for this Katekyo Hitman Reborn / Harry Potter crossover we have something an itty bit different than usual. Tsunayoshi Sawada was an honest to god wizard; robes, pointy hat, wand, the wholes works. Attending magic school since he was eleven, Tsuna is about to get a surprise of his lifetime when the mafia world starts knocking on his door after third year. With shenanigans at an all time high, how will Tsuna deal with keeping his magic secret while foiling plot attempts towards him left and right? At least he's not alone in this one, with his faithful Crup Natsu and his knowing Mother.**

* * *

**Flames of Magic**

Tsunayoshi Sawada was without a doubt one of the oddest boys in all of Namimori, Japan. Even as a child the little brunette was odd, in his own little way. Sure, he was a bit clumsy and not all that great at academics, to the point he earned the title 'Dame-Tsuna' by his peers, but that didn't make him odd.

No, the thing that made him odd were the strange 'happenings' that seemed to always occur around him. These occurrences were always strange things, like bullies tripping over suddenly when they were chasing the brunette, and even a teacher's shirt turned bright orange in the middle of the class once.

No one could really explain how all of these weird 'pranks' as they were called happen, but there was always one thing they had in common. Tsuna, was always present during them.

But no one actually said a thing about these events, in fact, many outright ignored them. Because really, who would believe that Dame-Tsuna could trip a bully half way across the courtyard, or grow all of his hair back in one day when a particularly vindictive classmate took some scissors to them?

Even Tsuna ignored these occurrences, not wanting to think himself too strange, though his mother always had a worried face when he did. After all, Nana didn't know if something strange or bad was happening or could happen to her precious tsu-kun.

But she didn't have to worry long, and neither did Tsuna for the matter who harbored his own worry deep inside his mind. Because just a bit before his eleventh birthday, everything just, well, changed.

* * *

Three years have passed since then, and Tsuna could hardly imagine what his life would be like if it never happened. Because it was on that very day that Tsuna learned one of the biggest truths about himself.

It was that day he learned he was an honest to god wizard.

Oh sure there was much skepticism that day, considering Tsuna and his mother thought that some strange man in a dress broke into their home; the only thing alerting them being a moderate cracking sound. But Fujiwara-san was good at his job when it came to introducing muggle-borns and their parents to the wizarding world. Which was a good thing considering that was his primary job in Japan's Ministry of Magic.

The man had spent the best part of the afternoon explaining and giving demonstrations to the small family of two, convincing them that yes, magic was real; and that no, Tsuna wasn't some oddball with schizophrenia or an incurable disease of some sort.

He also went along to explain that all the strange things that happened around Tsuna was called Accidental Magic, and that it was perfectly natural for any young wizard or witch; which relieved both Nana and Tsuna.

Their conversation dragged on well into the later hours of the afternoon, concluding with Fujiwara-san scheduling an appointment to meet up with the Sawada's again to enroll young Tsuna in a magic school of their choosing, as well as help them go shopping for supplies; leaving behind a large stack of pamphlets for the family to look over and a sufficiently charmed Nana behind.

That night was filled with much discussion between the mother and son duo, between things both important and mundane as they looked over the information pamphlets between wizarding society and schools.

In the coming morning, the two had come to an agreement on a few things, though only two were really that important.

First and foremost was Tsuna's school, Miyamoto's Magical Academy for the Arcane Arts. It was a prestigious school, the best of magical schooling in all of Japan. Nana had only wanted her Tsu-kun to have the best education, especially since he was going to be apart of a whole new world; one which she couldn't be apart of that much. But even so she would make sure her son was well prepared and that she did all she could for him.

However their choice came at a price, at least for Tsuna. Her precious boy had promised to actually try, and sincerely yes, try; no ifs, ands or buts about it. If he had to study to keep up in his class then he will do it, especially since she was paying for the tuition; something she guilted him about, she would admit. And teasing was no excuse to do poorly or not try, like he had gotten used to in the muggle world.

In turn however, Nana would not tell Iemitsu about the magical world or about Tsuna being a wizard. The small brunette had for once put his foot down about it. It wasn't that he hated his father, but more like he was a bit bitter at the man. And he felt like it was justifiable to keep such information about himself hidden from the man. If he really wanted to know anything then he could come back to their home and ask Tsuna personally.

It was a rather dubious deal between the two, one which both of them had their own reservations about, but in the end they agreed. And in two days Tsuna was all registered to attend the academy during the upcoming semester.

Luckily for him the trip to the magical alley was much more enjoyable, and well, magical.

Fujiwara-san had brought the two to Osaka with the use of an enchanted item called a portkey; which was a rather unpleasant first time experience for the duo, who had barely managed to stay on their feet after arriving.

However despite the nausea inducing travel method, it was still exciting; and Nana could hardly believe they were able to get between two places so fast.

Finding the alley was particularly easy, especially with their guides help. The entrance was in what looked to be a small family owned convenience store that was a little out of date. Not that anyone passing by seemed to notice it; even Nana didn't until Fujiwara-san steered her into it.

Once inside, the man had steered them into the dairy sections, and then promptly shocked the two when he walked right through a door that had an 'out of order' sign taped to it; as in right through, not even opening it. Of course Fujiwara-san stuck his head back out, looking like a smug bug in a rug as he looked at gawping duo, but was quick to explain that the door was an illusion and didn't exist; made to hide the alley on the off chance a muggle accidentally wondered in.

It took some coaxing, but Fujiwara was able to get Tsuna and his mother through; and got a gasp of wonder for his work.

Seimei Alley was astonishing, with Heian period architecture that looked as luxurious as it did old. Despite the wealthy looking atmosphere, the shops had a homely feel to them, inviting any of the robed figures that walked the streets into their confines.

And there were many robed people walking along, chatting about unicorn horns and dragon scales; it was an exciting experience to both mother and son, if a bit overwhelming.

Luckily Fujiwara-san was still pretty good at his job, and was able to walk them through everything. Like the bank and monetary system.

Apparently the wizarding world used a three coined currency, knuts, sickles, and galleons; or bronze, silver, and gold coins to be blunt. It was the only currency used, and no business would accept muggle money, though muggle money could be exchanged at the bank; which was their first stop.

Unlike the western wizarding banks, Japan's wizarding bank was ran by Kappa's, curious little critters who stored family treasures in an extensive underwater network. Their bank was hosted in a little bath house looking institute called Kappa Ginko, and they were quite helpful little things, though apparently not all were.

The ones who manned the bank had apparently struck a deal with the Japanese Ministry, and thus were able to work amongst the people as long as they didn't attack. It was almost frightening really at how accurate the legends about them were.

After that, everything went in a whirlwind, from buying robes, to books, the latter of which Nana made sure to buy a bit more; so her son had more study material.

They did end up stopping at a pet shop, where Tsuna had got of all things a Crup; to both his and his mothers surprise, as Tsuna never thought he'd get an animal and Nana was certain her little boy was afraid of dogs.

Yet lo-and behold somehow the little white puppy with a forked tail had imprinted on Tsuna something fierce, and even the boy couldn't muster up the normal feel of terror around the puppy eyed dog; who looked so placid and tame, as though he wouldn't hurt a fly. He ended up naming him Natsu.

It was a bit hassle to get him though, especially since there needed to be a license, but luckily enough they were able to get it at the shop. It helped that Natsu seemed to follow Tsuna's commands when asked too despite no prior meeting.

The fact that the notoriously muggle hating dog didn't even attack Nana, and only acted standoffish was another plus. But she seemed to take that information in stride as she gushed over the pooch.

Before they left though the shop attendant ended up casting a notice-me-not charm keyed into muggles on the dog's tail, a precaution as he noted.

Apparently in the western Wizarding World, it was common for witches and wizards to sever a Crups tail; just so a muggle wouldn't notice if they were out and about. However in other regions where the forked tail appearance was majorly popular, like here in Japan, government officials only had you tie in a charm so no-one outside of the magical communities would notice.

With that averted, the tiny group and dog made their way to the final destination in the lot, the Tokugawa Wand Emporium.

It was a pretty standard looking shop lined with boxes, manned by an ancient old man who didn't bother to give his name to anyone. Instead he asked for Tsuna's dominant hand before going off into the confines in his shop, handing each and every box over at his own whims.

It was a boring and tedious process, but in the end Tsuna found his wand after his twelfth try.

It was a beautiful piece of work, thirteen inches, Yew, with a strand of Manticore mane. When Tsuna gave the silvery white wand a wave, it let loose a shower of bright white and orange sparks that made both his mother and Fujiwara-san clap; though his mother looked like she was going to burst from joy at the spark show.

It was perhaps their most expensive purchase at ten galleons, but it was worth it.

Nana and Tsuna ended up returning to home that night happy, but exhausted. Only getting a departed warning from Fuijwara-san that magic was permitted outside of the school, as long as it was outside of a muggles sight.

Going to magic school on the other hand was, much to Tsunas and his mothers shock, much better than originally anticipated, though it was met with some issues, like transportation. But a simple installation of a floo system into the Sawada house fixed that.

Unlike his previous school, Tsuna did shockingly well, or more like incredibly well really.

At first Tsuna did do his best to study hard, incredibly so, so he could keep the deal with his mother. However as time progressed, magic and its theory came easier and easier to the brunet boy, to the point where studying became enjoyable instead of a task.

It also helped that no one was calling him Dame-Tsuna in his new school, and his teachers weren't bemoaning his poor aptitude; though they did chuckle a bit at how clumsy he could be in a robe. But an upperclassman took pity upon him and taught him how to navigate in the long garments, much to his gratitude.

It honestly was a bit of a confidence booster to Tsuna, who slowly but surely began to come out of his shell and become more sure of himself as he trained further in the magical arts.

He did however disagree with many of his peers and teachers notions that he was a prodigy. After all, he worked hard for his abilities and knowledge in this new environment. Plus, it wasn't like he was slinging around ancient magic like an eighty year old seasoned warlock, he was just a boy after all. But he was still advanced nonetheless.

At least, he was advanced enough to take advanced classes in his second year of schooling, classes which weren't even available til the end of the school year. One of them being a course in both occlumency and legilimency.

He was like a fish in water with the latter art, to the point he could passively scan others surface memory with barely a thought. It was perhaps the easiest art form that ever came to him. He actually developed a nasty habit of passively using it on just about everyone, though he did, and failed trying not to.

But really to some people his mastery in magic wasn't that surprising. At least those who knew wand lore. After all, there was a reason a wizard and their wand bonded for a reason.

But that was besides the point. The last three years of Tsuna's life had been the best he had ever had, and he wouldn't trade them for the world; he even loved the robes, which he had slowly become accustomed to during his stay in wizarding society.

However everything was to change during the summer after his third year, when a rather strange flyer found itself in his house. Even his ever trusting mother Nana thought the flyer rather odd, considering both her son's position in his school and the school in general.

In fact, she was so suspicious that she showed it to Tsuna, who looked on it with a vague feeling of amusement.

"I will turn your student into a leader of tomorrow?" Tsuna read of with a quirked eyebrow, his brown eyes laughing at the wording. However despite such amusement at the flyer, he could feel his own intuition blaring at the fringes of his mind.

It seemed that everything was about to get a bit more interesting, and this flyer would be just the start of it.


	8. A Savior with a PAK

**A/N: I own nada as usual.**

**For today's challenge we have a little crack pot Invader Zim/Harry Potter idea! This time Zim's cosmic luck comes back with vengeance when it sends off his newest invention, an updated PAK, to another dimension via the Moose Bus. Fully booted and without a host, the alien technology seeks out someone to wield it, and the young Potter just happened to be the closest life form to it. Given purpose by the alien device, Harry now seeks to conquor the world! Too bad he's only one and a half when he realizes this.**

* * *

**A Savior with a PAK**

Zim gave an evil cackle as he watched his newest invention slowly boot up in front of him. He would finally show both the Earthlings, and the Almighty Tallest just exactly what a great conqueror he was; and this device would be a key component in his newest endeavor.

His newest invention wasn't anything big like a battle ready space ship, and it wasn't even as showy as a robot. In fact, it was oddly reminiscent of the PAK that was grafted to every Irken upon their birth, with the exception the lights were green instead of the normal pink.

To be blunt it wouldn't be much of a stretch to actually call Zim's newest masterpiece a PAK; considering it did indeed sport all the features and tools of a standard PAK. However, it was so much more than any ordinary PAK, more so since Zim had improved on it.

One example of this would be the heavy improvement on the memory functions of the device; allowing it to hold the vast wealth of knowledge in its banks without downloading information from the Armada, or in some cases, the Control Brain, as was usual.

Various convenient tools have also been added as well, with an addition of a few new basic weapons. At the same token though, a few thing had been removed to be replaced with more worthwhile technology, the most glaring being the jet pack; which had been replaced with a more advanced levitation device that the Tallest usually use.

But those were hardly even the most important features or even improvments to the device. No, the crowning achievement, one of which Zim was immensely proud of dealt with the separation between PAK and Irken.

Sadly he wasn't able to improve upon the time of separation given when the PAK itself was dislodged from its host; something which seemed impossible. But that hardly mattered when he improved upon the PAK's adaptability, mainly its ability to integrate with another host.

While a regular PAK would kill any other race upon integrating with a non-Irken host, Zim's creation would in essence adapt its new host to properly bind with it. Add to the fact that a PAK contained both the personality, memories, and mission of its original host, Zim had essentially created a roundabout immortality that would allow his kind to increase their mission success rates to a near one hundred percent!

So naturally, Zim had named his newest creation the PAK 100; as befitting of its greatness. Especially considering it would help him not only conquer Earth, but also gain him favor amongst his leaders.

All that was left for Zim to fully complete his new PAK was to integrate the rest of his personality and memories into it, since all he had currently uploaded was a feeble place holder. It'd be easy enough to do the data transfer, and once he did he'd be able to do the transfer!

"All those pathetic worms will bow down to me, Zim!" the Irken cackled again like a megalomaniac as he was slowly watching his plan come to life.

Too bad nothing ever goes right for Zim. Ever.

And his undoing came in its usual form of Gir who came running into the underground lab covered in butter.

"I'm a buttered biscuit! Yeah!" The SIR unit screeched as he ran around, leaving trails of butter behind him. Soon Zim's own shouts of 'Gir!' echoed in cacophony with the little robot's laugh as the Irken was forced to chase him least he ruin anything with his buttery trails.

Too bad he was across the room when Gir bumped into the table containing the fully booted PAK 100, causing the device to tumble off and away.

"Nooo!" Zim cried dramatically as if he were watching his own baby bounce away. And bounce it did, all the way to the old bus Zim once tried to use to send Dib and the other school children to the moose universe.

By some uncanny luck, or perhaps through some divine interference, the PAK tumbled, more like broke through the buses front window, and smack, landed right upon its ignition.

Roaring to life, the bus moved like it had a will of its own, and zoomed through a quick wormhole; leaving behind only the despairing wails of Zim and the high pitched laugh of Gir.

* * *

Meanwhile in another dimension, Albus Dumbledore was bidding goodbye to a young Harry Potter who he had just sat upon his Aunt's doorstep. His colleagues, Minvera McGonagall and Ruberus Hagrid stood faithfully besides him, they too bidding their farewells; though Hagrid's was more vocal with sniffles and tears compared to Minerva's sullen silence.

With each of their goodbyes done, they left one by one, with Dumbledore and Minerva apparating while Hagrid took off on a flying motor cycle. Should one of them had stayed any longer, they would have been treated to the ever peculiar site of a strange iron plated bus suddenly flying down the road, doing a barrel roll, and then blinking out of sight without any evidence of it being there; almost like a crazier Knight Bus.

Of course, no one saw this, or even heard the whistling noise the bus made as it barreled through the neighborhood; the occupants too tired to wake from their slumber. However while the bus may have left the vicinity, heck, even the dimension, it did leave behind one little thing.

The PAK 100 glowed ominously where it was left on the street, twitching as its programs started to run themselves. Twitching ever so slightly, the green colored device opened up, deploying spindly spider like legs that allowed it movement.

Without any host grafted to it, the PAK did what both it, and its predecessors before it had been programed to do; seek out a host. And luckily for it, there happened to be a host just a few meters in front of it, a host that was sleeping peacefully outside of a small suburban house.

The PAK 100 wasted no time as it loped over agilely, easily bypassing the gate and up to the porch where it loomed over its target.

With an almost deceptive gentleness, the device flipped over its soon to be host on his side with minimal jostling. And then it abandoned all forms of politeness and jumped at the child's unprotected back as it went to complete its designation.

Young little Harry Potter woke up with a start, a pained look overtaking his face as his lips formed into a silent scream. The sable haired child gave a almost huffy little gasp, before his eyes closed without a by your leave; obviously showing he had fallen unconscious.

And just like that, Harry Potter's life, and everyone else s on Earth had just changed.

All because some half baked Irken in a parallel dimension thought once again he'd succeed despite his already spotty record.

* * *

Harry Potter was a very strange child, and everyone on Privet Drive could attest to that. Even the perfectly normal Dursley family couldn't make their nephew seem remotely mundane.

And it wasn't like he was a bad strange, like he was a drug dealer or alcoholic; which would have made people appalled that an eight year old child could get into such things. No, it was more like the boy was a hooligan. A very frustrating hooligan at that.

Because little Harry caused over a hundred thousand dollars worth of property damage in the sparse seven years he had been living in the neighborhood. But what made it so frustrating was the fact that for every scorch mark that made itself known, no one could pin it on the sable haired boy.

They all knew he had done it, yet they could never pin the evidence on him. The boy was just too crafty. But they knew it was him, after all, no one else could have done it except for the one boy who screamed 'You will bow before Harry!' every other day.

But no matter how many reports they filed the Police did nothing. In fact, they practically laughed at their faces, calling what Harry did 'childish exuberance'.

Even the Dursley family was no help. Whenever someone complained about Harry, Vernon would always pale and garble up his words, while Petunia would look like she sucked on a lemon. Dudley on the other hand just seemed immune to it all, though it was obvious that he gave a wide berth when it came to his cousin.

They couldn't really blame the kid's family though. The boy was a bit terrifying with his yells about domination, and his insult of 'worms' spilling forth every now and then.

However what really sold the boy's oddness was his own appearance. It wasn't anything large really, but it was the subtle things that added to his strangeness.

For one Harry's own eyes were quite creepy, with unnaturally large green irises that seemed to expand all over his eyes, and sometimes swallow his pupils. Though that would be impossible, and many dismissed it as a trick of a light.

His body was also a bit strange as well. Thin as a rake, the boy was the thinnest amongst the children at school, but he didn't look anorexic. In fact, the gangly limbs he supported fitted him. But while his limbs were long and he was thin, he was hardly tall; in fact he was slightly short.

And the boy's tongue, now that was really freaky. It was long, long enough to look like a tiny snake with how he could control it. And the thing spazzed out whenever he yelled, contorting in ways that made some sick.

Talking about his sick, Harry's own skin was particularly sickly looking. He was pale, yes, but that didn't mean he was actually white, in fact the boy seemed to have a chartreuse sheen to it when put in direct light.

It was weird, strange, and honestly creepy as hell. So everyone did what came natural. They ignored it.

They ignored it as much as they did the boys dog, who was a constant companion to him.

No one, not even the Dursley's knew when the dog came about. He just seemed to suddenly appear when the boy was four years old. The dog was oddly reminiscent of a golden retriever, shaggy fur and all. However unlike what was standard to that breed of dog, the retriever was silver and had milkshake pink eyes.

It really was a strange dog, and vicious too. The thing seemed to be violent towards everything and everyone except for young Harry. Why the Dursley's let him keep the thing no one knew. Even the animal control agents seemed confused as to why the dog still roamed.

However no matter how many times they tried to lock the beast up, it seemed to break free not even ten minutes later. It was practically as elusive as the boy. To the point were animal control gave up on even capturing it after its third tries.

It honestly was a bleak predicament for the little neighborhood, not to mention rather mysterious.

They could only hope that the little snot would grow up and be out of their humble community soon. Or else their sanity may suffer.

Poor Privet Drive.

* * *

Harry Potter thought the human race was disgusting. They were nothing but worms beneath his feet, and soon one day he would crush them.

He had felt this way ever since he was a small child, a baby really. And his opinion was only reinforced when his relatives tried to force him into the cupboard like some unwanted peon.

Harry had showed them the errors of their way when he broke out of the cupboard and confronted them into the kitchen nearby, using the spider like legs in his PAK to transport him around the house.

Vernon and Petunia had tried to raise a fuss about it, in fact his Uncle tried to attack him.

Harry made sure that they understood he was not to be messed with by worms with an application of a small ray gun to Vernon's flesh; giving him 'small' third degree burns.

They typically left him alone after that, giving the scarily smart child, a child capable of cognitive speech the spare bedroom on the third floor.

Not that Harry thought it was strange that he was suddenly able to do many things that a one and a half year old child shouldn't be able to do. Then again, the PAK 100 was very effective when it came to adapting memories into its host.

And adapt it did, giving the one and a half year old savior a new purpose in life. A purpose to take over the world!

Not that he tried yet, Harry was too young, and unprepared to take over Earth. Especially one which was somewhat observant. It also helped that the boy wasn't a complete carbon copy of Zim, since he only got an incomplete personality from the PAK 100, allowing him to have a few beneficial traits.

However that didn't stop the occasional burst of evil cackles or exclamation of 'taking over the world'; he did after all have some of Zim's personality. Harry just counted himself lucky that it wouldn't be taken serious because of his age.

However while he may not have been actively trying to take over the world, it didn't stop him from preparing. And prepared he did, stealing materials with the help of his PAK 100 in order to remake many Irken technologies the best he could.

Even with the PAK though many things were still out of his reach. Luckily for him though a SIR unit wasn't just quite out of reach. And Harry was able to make one rather easily when he was four.

His SIR unit at first wasn't anything special, in fact some tools were still missing from it since he hadn't had access to them as of yet. Despite as such, it was quite a useful utility to Harry, who named the SIR uncreatively as Ris.

Luckily enough he was able to include a disguise mechanism in his creation, allowing his little robot follower to move freely in the form of a silver colored golden retriever.

After the SIR unit Harry wasn't able to create anything overtly spectacular, in fact, he didn't even think he'd have the chance to until he was older and able to move about more freely.

Until he had his first bout of accidental magic that was. Apparating to the rooftop when he wished to avoid a slew of security guards was both disorienting if annoying, but at least the event opened up new frontiers to Harry.

Like why he was able to perform transportation without the technology.

Too bad for the rest of the world, the young eight year old was on the verge of discovering magic, and opening up a whole new slew of possibilities for himself.


	9. Robots, Robots Everywhere

**A/N: I own nothing except for a fortress of cardboard boxes.**

**Anyhow my lovely viewers, we have a Mega Man/Harry Potter Challenge up for grabs today! The original idea was that Harry was either Dr. Light's or Dr. Wily's grandson, and ends up being raised by the two. Surrounded in a large world of science and robots, and soon to be hurtled into a world of magic, how will Harry end up dealing with both world's issues? Especially when he has to deal with a few amorous Robot Masters!**

**For today's piece though, I ended up writing an early blurb where Wily was Harry's grandfather. So I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Robots, Robots Everywhere**

Dr. Wily was not all that nice of a man, or more like he hasn't been that nice of a man for a long time. Cruel, vile, manipulative, those were the general terms to describe the balding scientist.

And Wily did agree with that assessment, after all, he did try to routinely take over the world or cause as much damage as possible for the sake of revenge; which many people would think a petty reason. But when someone had no purpose left, nothing else to help drive them in life, revenge became far less petty.

But that wasn't the point. The crux of the matter was that Dr. Wily was a cruel man of dubious sanity, and was widely believed to have not a single kind bone in his body.

So it'd come to many a person's shock that the cruel Dr. Wily did have a limit, and it came in the form of child abuse.

And when he saw his great grandson, a knobby kneed Harry Potter, getting abused by his own granddaughter, one Petunia Dursley Nee Evans, well, Wily saw red that day.

He didn't fight her, or her small whale of a husband Vernon, no, Wily wouldn't go down to their level. But that didn't mean the man was going to let them go free for their own crimes; which in itself was a bit hypocritical.

The mad scientist had, with the help of a robotic companion, had the older duo subdued while he simultaneously called the police while looking over his injured grandson; his other great grandson, Dudley, cried in the background over the 'big scary robot' the entire time.

What followed was a whirlwind of events which even boggled the ever crazed genius man.

Petunia and Vernon had found themselves serving a hefty sentence in two local prisons for gross neglect of his two grandsons after some investigation; Dudley being included due to their poor parenting of the lad and overfeeding.

As for Wily, well, he found himself in the care of one Harry Potter, as Dudley Dursley had been given to Vernon's sister, Marge Durlsey, on behalf of the two imprisoned parents.

Of course during this no one knew Wily was actually the Dr. Wily, which was perhaps the only reason why little Harry found himself in his custody; no discounting Marge's own venomous testimony on how she wouldn't take the other child in. It also helped that the good doctor had the foresight to have some forged documents stating he was Wily Evans; but that was besides the point.

Dr. Wily was now the guardian of his young, barely four year old great grandson. And he had to say he was happier for it.

Not that he was during the start of it. After all, having to take care of a three year old when you routinely tried to take over the world was both a harrowing thing.

Not that Wily was willing to give up Harry either. He was of his own bloodline, and those large, green eyes would haunt him if he just left the poor child to the vultures.

Luckily and unluckily his fears were unfounded. Harry was an incredibly well mannered boy, if not meek for his age; something he privately thought was due to the boy's previous upbringing.

Still, despite his well mannered behavior, it was still a hassle when raising the boy, or more like making him open up. Trying to convince his grandson that yes, he could ask questions, and no, he didn't have to clean up every room or wake up at the crack of dawn was a bit sad.

But every smile, or twinkle of his emerald eyes made it worth the effort, if Dr. Wily had anything to say for it.

And it was for the best really, because little mild mannered Harry turned out to be quite the intelligent boy, which made his mad scientist grandfather ever so proud.

It wasn't like the boy was some super genius who could figure out the meaning of life since he was two, but there was no denying his mind worked just as quick as Wily's. And boy did Wily take advantage of that, teaching his own grandson the tricks of robot creation; which he took quite well to if the ever so smug Wily had anything to say.

Talking about robots, his own creations seemed to adore, if at least generally tolerated his grandson; though he would admit to some tinkering with a few of them, not that he was really guilty over the fact.

Even Bass, the traitorous lout of a robot was tolerable towards little Harry, to the point he let the young boy play with Treble. It was quite mind boggling to Wily, who could only stare in disbelief at times. But he supposed it wasn't as bad as it could be, after all, Bass could have been hugging onto his grandson and proclaiming him to be 'the sweetest little thing ever' like some older women do when he takes Harry outside of his 'fortress'.

Just like everything else though, there was an exception to this 'rule', and this exception also revealed something rather interesting about Harry to Wily.

Gemini Man was, for some convoluted reason, afraid and a bit distasteful to Harry. The vain robot would always skitter away from the boy or give him a muted glare as if he killed his puppy; though he never dared to lash out in fear of the consequences.

Wily naturally tried to get down to the bottom of this, already being quite attached and fond of his grandson. So imagine his surprise when Gemini told him that his little grandson could talk to snakes of all things!

Of course the scientist was skeptic. After all, the boy could have just pretended to be hissing to that garden snake he found, thinking it was funny. Young boys did things like that, Wily supposed.

Still that didn't take away from the fact that Harry was handling a snake, which could be potentially dangerous. So Wily ended up confronting him about the earlier situation, to clear up some things.

Which was when the man did find out that yes, Harry could talk to snakes, and no, Gemini Man wasn't malfunctioning or anything else. Not that he believed it at first when Harry shyly told him. But when his grandson hissed commands to a snake, and it followed his direction, well, you can't really argue with that.

It was around that time that Wily began to notice the more strange things that happened around his grandson. Like how his hair would grow unnaturally fast, or how things on high shelves would find themselves in Harry's hand without the help of a nearby robot or a stool.

They were small, but curious little things Wily couldn't explain no matter how hard he tried. But he didn't think his grandson strange for it, in fact, he had to assure the young child that he wasn't a 'freak' or abnormal when these bouts happened in front of him; something he suspected was ingrained from the Dursley's brief treatment of the young boy.

Still, these little blips didn't leave Wily that unaffected. If anything, they made the mad scientist even more protective of Harry. After all, a scientist would kill to test out his grandson's unique powers.

And Wily wouldn't have that. Not at all.

Because Harry had become incredibly precious to him, and he wouldn't let the heavens, nor that dratted Dr. Light and his precious Mega Man part him from his grandson.

After all, even villains need a family and love from time to time.

* * *

Harry didn't know what love was until his grandfather took him from the Dursleys. His parents had probably loved him when he was younger, but he didn't remember that. In fact during his short years of life, all he did remember was the darkness prevalent in the cupboard under the stairs and the painfully high shriek of his Aunt as she bossed him around and slapped his forehead whenever he made a perceived slight against her precious family.

But then one day his grandfather just suddenly appeared, out of the blue, and just like that his dark life shifted into an almost dream like state.

He was given a new room, a really big one, and he wasn't hit or yelled at; at the most he was scolded if he did something wrong, which apparently counted as trying to cook breakfast since young boys shouldn't. And he got enough food to fill his stomach up for once.

His grandfather also pushed him to become more inquisitive, letting him open up and ask questions to quench his thirst for knowledge; something the Dursleys never did. And it opened up a door of possibility to the young child.

The man didn't even yell at him for his 'freakishness', in fact the man just smiled and told him to be careful and make sure others didn't see it. Though the last part he seemed a bit fearful, though over what Harry didn't know.

And then, if that wasn't enough, his grandfather built robots!

Harry didn't know that robots could be so advanced, or human like, it was just so mind boggling to him. But they were also really 'cool' to him too, after all, he was still a kid and they were, well, robots.

But best of all, they were friendly robots, who didn't mind playing with him now and then; which was far better than the isolated amusement he was used to.

Even the big scary robot, the one with the black and yellow suit was nice to him; if a bit gruff. He didn't yell or scream at him, in fact at the worst he just seemed to be silently annoyed. But best of all, he let him play with his own dog, Treble, which was a joy to Harry.

The only real spoilsport was the sparkly blue robot, and even then he left Harry alone.

It really was a dream come true to Harry, who wished that some distant relative would take him in and shower him with love. In fact, it was so dream like that Harry sometimes feared that he'd wake up and find out he actually was dreaming on his threadbare cot.

But everyday without fail he woke up to his new spacious room, a robot always there to greet him before escorting him down to breakfast, where he could eat his fill. Then he'd go see his grandfather who'd teach him more about robots and their creations before being ushered off to go and play.

Harry loved it, dearly so, and he loved his grandfather even more.

And if Harry had any say in it, he wouldn't be separated from his new life or his grandfather; and he would fight if he absolutely had to.

* * *

Meanwhile in an unplottable piece of land somewhere in Scotland, Dumbledore paced about his office in a tizzy. An Order member, Arabella Figg had recently reported to him about the displacement of one Harry Potter to his muggle grandfather.

The elderly headmaster was dreadfully worried. He had no idea that Harry had a grandfather, or even if this man was his real grandfather. But worse of all, he knew he had failed little Harry once he saw the transcripts of the Dursley's trial.

He knew Harry needed protection, but he wouldn't be breaking the duo out of their prison for the sake of it. They would be more detrimental than helpful after all.

But that didn't stop the fact that Harry was now in someone elses custody, and the fact that every location spell he casted ended up pointing out Harry's location in the most obtuse locations; such as in the middle of the ocean for example.

Whatever was causing this Dumbledore didn't know, though it was obvious that it foiled any form at trying to track the young Potter. And without a location there was nothing he could do.

All that was left for Dumbledore was to sit and wait until Harry turned eleven and his Hogwarts letter could be sent out. The artifact that recorded where muggle borns lived would be more than powerful enough to show his location, or so he hoped.

He just prayed that Harry would be okay in the end.


	10. More Robots and a Hedgehog

**A/N: I own absolutely nothing except for a pet rock named Phil.**

**Alrighty, for some reason lately I've been having a Harry Potter getting a new grandfatherly figure vibe; which was why this little piece was brought into existence! A Sonic the Hedgehog/Harry Potter crossover, Harry ends up tumbling between dimensions when Dr. Eggman uses a Chaos Emerald to get an heir! Stuck in a new world where all he feels is indecisiveness, can Harry commit to the evil doctor's plans, knowing he granted his own wish to flee the Dursley's? Or will he give in and become the next Eggman? And what about Hogwarts and it's bright headmaster Dumbledore, what will he do with this missing savior?**

**Also on a quick note before the drabble, I didn't set this piece in any particular time frame in the Sonic Universe, except perhaps a bit after Adventure 2, and left it particularly vague. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy! **

* * *

**More Robots and a Hedgehog**

Dr. Eggman hated Mondays. They were one of the most vile creations in all of existence, just a bit below blue hedgehogs and their no good meddlesome friends.

However unlike his arch-nemesis, the start of the week made the mustached doctor feel his age without fail. Every groggy morning was filled with a creaking of his old bones, and the uncomfortable stretch of muscle that didn't quite match up to the elasticity left in his skin.

It wasn't an unbearable pain, nor was it particularly stinging like the cuts and bruises Sonic had left him. No, what made this type of pain so bad to the megalomaniac was the knowledge behind it.

The knowledge, that the great robust Dr. Eggman was getting old; and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Well, not necessarily. Eggman was intelligent despite his faults, and there were many methods he could use to regain his youth of be rid of the pains that wracked his body; such as tonics to revert his aging, surgery to replace aging parts with artificial counterparts, or even using the Chaos Emeralds to give him eternal youth.

But he wouldn't do anything like that. Which was strange considering the man was a megalomaniac who's ultimate goal was to rule the universe.

And like every megalomaniac Dr. Eggman had many faults, he was brash, arrogant, and tended to forget many minute things that could topple his grandiose plans. Despite this, the evil genius did have one redeeming quality about him as many would like to overlook.

And this took the form of his knowledge of life itself; specifically that there was no such thing as immortality.

Oh sure, being long lived could be perceived as immortality; his once idolized Grandfather's creation, Shadow, being a prime example of this. But true immortality was outside the grasp of man, beast, and god.

Death would forever have its claim on all of existence, be it material or immaterial; it did no discriminate. And those who sought to cheat it, to obtained the fabled whispers of immortality were struck unbiased with a cursed that would make them fall. Hard.

And Eggman already had his shares of falls from a sentient blue hedgehog. He didn't need an other-worldly force making his life hell too; especially since this one would rival the might of any other beings he dealt with.

So no, Eggman would never dare attempt to obtain immortality. He would rather keep his mortal body and do what he did best; causing mass mayhem as he attempted to rule the world, possibly the universe, and crush his arch-nemesis.

But despite his preference that fact of the matter was that Eggman was old, and one day, soon or later, he would die. And his Empire, should it come into being or not, would be left unattended; left to rot in the throes of time.

And he couldn't have that, his pride wouldn't allow his reputation and name to go that way. He just wouldn't allow it.

Which was why the ever crazed Doctor came up with his latest, and best plot yet.

He would obtain an heir. One who was as impressively intelligent as himself, to where he could manage his vast resources appropriately and bring glory to the Robotnik, better known as Eggman name.

But he had no living blood relative, and no common lout would do. Dr. Eggman deserved the best heir in all of existence, and that was where his plan or more like idea came into creation.

After all, being an evil genius who had a reality warping emeralds at his disposal sporadically did have its uses.

* * *

"You're too late Sonic, with this my plan will be completed!" came the familiar saying from Dr. Eggman as he gloated to his arch-nemesis once again.

The blue hedgehog in question gave a glare at the scientist who lauded his superiority atop a monster of a machine in his newest space fleet. It was a mess of wires and steel, roughly forming an egg shape that had a slight indent in it. An indent that was suspiciously similar in shape to the green emerald the man held.

"Pfft, as if! We always triumph over your evil plans Eggman, and today's no different!" Sonic rebuked confidently, if borderline cocky. His companions, Tails and Knuckles shouted their own agreements with his assessment.

If anything, Eggman looked more amused than irritated by the hedgehog's words. "Evil? I'll have you know that this little machine here is hardly evil. In fact, it's probably the safest thing I've ever built!" The robust man burst into a deep laughing fit, one which unnerved Sonic. There was just something wrong with the way the man said 'safe'.

But he kept his confident smirk, not willing to back down nor show weakness to the cruel man. "As if I'll fall for that!" he countered, before he raced off towards his enemy, intent on preventing Eggman from activating the machine.

But the scientist was already a step ahead of the hedgehog, already predicting Sonic's first move. With barely a snap of his fingers his robotic sentries poured out from the woodwork, popping up from cleverly hidden side rooms and underneath false floor panels; each doing their best to delay the hedgehog.

Eggman at this time wasted no time in shoving the Chaos Emerald he acquired into his newest machine, the 'Dimensional Ripper-Upper Five Thousand'. The cleverly designed piece of machinery was rather simplistic, if power heavy in its nature.

Its design would allow the mad scientist to rip open a finite rift in the dimensional fabric, with the help of the reality warping powers found within the Chaos Emeralds. Adding a few complex algorithms into the process, Eggman would be able to in theory draw out objects and people from the outer-lying dimensions into his own; as long as they matched the specifications he wrote down.

In this case, the machine would draw out the most perfect heir for himself; or what he perceived to be the most perfect heir for him.

Sonic was only half way through his robotic forces when the stout man pulled the large red lever, imprinted with his own facial insignia as always; activating his newest machine.

Everyone stilled, even the robots did, when the machine burst to life. It shrieked a terrible sound as it jiggled about in a parody of a seizure. Light steam and heavy smoke puffed out from where the welded seams in the machine came undone from an unknown pressure. All the while the Chaos Emerald shined merrily, glowing with its own power as it fueled the machine to further heights.

But just as soon as it began was it over. The egg shaped machine sagged over as if it were exhausted, nuts and bolts clanging against the ground from where it damaged itself. Dr. Eggman looked positively giddy, not even caring about the machine's damaged state

Sonic and co watched the thing warily, their bodies stiff yet pliant; ready to move at any notice of hostile intent. And they did move, violently flinching and jumping back when the machine opened with a measly groan.

What came out of said machine however bamboozled the trio, who openly gaped at the sight.

There was no giant robot, fire breathing dragon, or some otherworldly malicious force. No, standing in the smokey, white paneled inner sanctum of the machine was a little boy.

He looked barely even five years old, with large cast off clothing that hung pitifully off ever so pale shoulders. His hair was a birds nest of sable strands, jutting and flipping out chaotically. The straggly strands contrasted greatly to the chalky pale skin the child had; chalky skin that did little to hide the ugly yellow and even violet bruises that poked out from underneath his castoffs.

To finish off his ensemble were a pair of coke bottle glasses that sat primly upon a cute little nose, their lenses almost comically thick. Sadly the glasses did very little to flatter the youth, dwarfing his face and doing his eyes no justice.

His eyes were perhaps the most defining feature of the little child, except perhaps the red looking lightening bolt scar that sat upon his brow. From what both Sonic and Eggman could see in between the glasses, they were a bright emerald color; one which rivaled both the Master Emerald and the Chaos Emerald that brought him here in color.

"Uhm, hullo?" the little boy said timidly after a stretch of uncomfortable silence between all parties, his tiny body shutting in on itself as his eyes swiveled around cautiously.

As if it were the magic words everything came back into motion, Eggman's minions moving first to subdue Sonic and his party temporarily as the man himself took charge.

"It's nice to see you join me my auspicious heir. I'm sure you're quite confused now- no, don't interrupt me. I'll have more time to explain, but for now we have to go, as our uninvited guest are the most incorrigible of people." The doctor said theatrically, if sickeningly nice as he leaned over and put a large hand on the smaller boy's shoulders; his grip ever firm as he prepared to run.

And run he did, when Sonic burst out from his captivity with a mighty roar of "Eggman!"

The evil genius didn't hesitate as he pushed a cleverly concealed button, letting the floor slip below him; causing his soon to be heir to cry out in surprise and fright as they fell to the room below.

Spurred on by the child's cry of terror and incomprehension, the Hedgehog bulldozed through the robotic force in the room; mowing them down at unrivaled speeds as he made his way to the newest hole in Eggman's ship.

But he was too slow, far too slow.

Jumping down, he narrowly missed being hit by a small, but fast escape ship that was being manned by Eggman himself. The contraption barreled past the blue hedgehog, the roar of the engines doing little to drown the megalomaniacs mocking cackles of success.

But that barely registered on Sonic's radar. Instead the hedgehog was focused on someone entirely else, the little boy who sad behind the robust doctor.

His face was drawn in fear, the coke bottle glasses that once obscured his eyes were gone, resting upon his lap after being jarred from his face. Those eyes, those green, green eyes that could make even the chaos emeralds jealous in their beauty stared out from the vehicle, catching Sonic with their mystic view.

They spoke of many things. Pain, terror, incomprehension, hope, panic, and pleading was directed at the blue hedgehog. And when those green eyes were broken away from his gaze, their pools resigning themselves to whatever was happening to their owner did Sonic fully felt the impact of what had happened here.

The bitter seed of failure bloomed inside his gut, waiting to bloom into a sickening flower.

* * *

Nine year old Harry Potter had no idea what to think of his situation, despite being at his new accommodations for two years. There were many things which made the dimensionally displaced wizard very indecisive, though none were more pressing than Dr. "Call me Grandpa" Eggman.

It wasn't as though the man was particularly abusive to him. The doctor actually treated him quite well, far better than the Dursley's in his own opinion. He let him eat as much as he wanted, take showers daily, and he even clothed him!

He no longer had to lug around those castoffs his Aunt tried to call clothes; having them be replaced with a pair of black shorts and a particularly long coat that emulated the red shirt his newest guardian wore. He even had new shoes too! It was a rather happy moment to have clothing that was finally his own.

Even chores were a thing of the past. His new 'grandfather' thought those exhausting tasks were particularly useless, especially when he had robots to do any menial tasks. Instead he replaced them with 'tutoring sessions', where he would try to cram Harry's head with as much knowledge about science and how to be a decent megalomaniac.

They were particularly grueling sessions, especially since the man demanded decent effort to be put into it. But without his chores to hold him back, or anything else to do for that matter Harry took to it rather well. Despite his reservations.

Which took him to his biggest conundrum about the man. Dr. Eggman was kind, well, at least he thought the man was kind to him. However he seemed to be an exception, as his 'Grandpa' seemed to be particularly cruel concerning other people; lobbing missiles at towns and generally creating weapons of mass destruction.

Harry couldn't agree with the cruelty, if anything he detested it. Yet despite his cruelty the man took him in and treated him well; discounting the fact he pretty much kidnapped him from his own ends. And it wasn't as though Harry really cared for that, after all, hadn't it been his wish since he was a child that some unknown relative would come in the middle of the night and snatch him from the Durlseys so they could shower him with love?

His 'Grandpa' did this despite not being his real blood relative. He took him from the Durlsey's and offered him opportunity and family. It would have been selfish for him to go out of his way to make a fuss over the man's endeavors.

And he owed the man for so much more then just rescuing him. Dr. Eggman also prepared him, and informed him. He didn't lie about Harry's displacement, and didn't misdirect him, or so he thought, on educational matters. If anything he was pretty upfront when it came to him.

But he also unveiled what Harry and his 'freakishness' was too; and he didn't hold it against him, unlike the Dursley's. The ever illustrious Dr. Eggman had deduced, more like theorized that Harry himself was some form of mystic, considering his own powers acted much like the Chaos Emeralds and their magical abilities.

'Grandpa' Eggman even helped him when it came to his powers, searching high and low for any manuscripts that could help him, and raiding tombs for knowledge. Since apparently while magic wasn't that far fetched of an idea in this world, its applications were a bit more shrouded in mystery.

It really was something touching, and at the rate everything was going, Harry didn't know if he could pay the good doctor back, except for one way, and that was by being his perfect heir.

Because while Harry may dislike the notion of hurting others, he would prove himself the best he could. He didn't want to be ungrateful or selfish to the man who rescued him. And if he had to kill a bit of his spirit to do so, then he would.


	11. Soul of a Dragon

**A/N: I own nothing, nothing at all in this wide blue world of ours.**

**Before I start off here, I want to give a quick thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed my story! I really appreciate it everyone, so again, thank you!**

**Alright, for this story we have a Guild Wars 2 x Harry Potter crossover, with some slight end spoilers from Guild Wars 2. Zhaitan for all of his powers wasn't as infallible as he thought, and he paid the price for his arrogance. Thrust out from his home reality by the missing gods, the Elder Dragon slept within the endless void until that fateful night Voldemort cast the killing curse upon Harry Potter. With barely any soul left in his body, the magics from the mistaken Horcrux creation reached out and grabbed something far more evil than anyone could originally anticipate.**

* * *

**Soul of a Dragon**

Once upon a time, in a world not quite like this one, he was a force to be reckoned with. There was no man, woman, or child who didn't know of his name; and even the far corners of the world would whisper fearfully about him.

And they were right to be fearful of him, because compared to them he was a god. No, he was far better than a god, as those entities couldn't even dare strike him down. In a true battle they would fall one by one to his and his kin's might.

The only time he and his kin had ever been dormant was during their past campaign, where their own victory forced them to slumber least they wish to toil away in a mostly dead world. It was a vicious cycle that repeated itself over and over, with him and his kin eating away civilizations and the life on their world until nothing remained; then going to sleep until life began anew.

And with every cycle, he became used to it; to the point he grew arrogant in his own power. Though no one could really fault him, after all, he made cosmic powers look like a flea compared to himself.

But nonetheless arrogance bloomed in his person like a thorny bramble. He thought he could do anything, and no one would be able to strike him down for this. Such thoughts did not brew well with his own boredom that too was bred from the endless cycle.

And that was his ultimate mistake, giving in to his own arrogance and boredom to appease his demented mind. He cared not for the art of subtly or creating an ultimate defense; he just wished to cause an interesting chaos that would keep him amused for decades to come.

To start said chaos, he had risen the fallen continent known as Orr by the sentient beings in this newest cycle of life. It was an easy process, as the sunken land was nearby his last resting place. But it wasn't a peaceful process, as the reappearance of the land had caused violent swells through the ocean, devastating coastal communities along the main continent; as he would learn later.

Such wonton destruction however did nothing to dissuade those few brave souls who had long lurked around the few risen ruins of Orr; all intent on greedily grabbing as much treasure as possible. If anything, the violent reappearance had caused their ranks to swell even further as they invaded the continent for new riches.

Those rash actions would prove the end of them at his own hands, or more like the hands of the long dead Orrians. The once citizens of the land had easily risen under his command much like their home; his own personal ability of corruption seeing to that.

They viciously slew the invaders, each newly dead quick to join their ranks in his newest army. Very few of the pirates escaped his reawakened wrath, fleeing from the unholy land without abandon.

Within the span of a day his new lair was rendered utterly silent. Every sentient living creature far beyond the horizon in their hastes; the only thing left were sunken ships and live stock that were held aboard; and were quickly converted into his own beasts.

It was spectacular, riveting, fun. He had never waged a battle like that before. Unlike his kin, he would keep his minions hidden in the past; their rotting, cold bodies held securely in their graves. And like a plague he would traverse the world invisibly, spreading his vile influence wherever he touched.

Only when he had his minions in every major location would he strike. Using the chaos his kin caused as cover, he would force his minions to break from their tombs and raid the once proud cities and their citizens. Unprepared for the undead creatures, they would all fall in a gory blood bath; no chance for battle against their newest enemy.

It was effective, but boring. And now that he tasted what a real overrunning battle could be like, he was hooked. If anything he wanted a bigger battle, no, he wanted an all out war; he wouldn't be pleased with anything else, as nothing could make the destructive instincts in his veins sing more than war.

But to have a war, he needed an army, and while he had the pirates and the citizens of Orr they weren't exactly enough. So he began to spread his corruption, first going to the wildlife that still braved the waters around him.

The aquatic beings were no match for his undead minions, who's shriveled lungs no longer needed water. They spread plagues and magic through the ocean floors, giving their newest enemies an unforgiving death while warping the lands around them. Seaweed became a choking poisonous weed amongst the waters, only offset by the gaping maws of now giant clams that wished to entrap anything.

The beasts left upon Orr from the sunken ships too fell to his corruption; chickens and bulls becoming decayed creatures far stronger then their living counterparts. Even the avian beasts joined their ranks.

But it wasn't enough for him. Using the considerable magic at his disposal, he warped the ships of his downed enemies into transports for his minions; and using the channels of the ocean had them sail towards the mainland to spread their ire.

Those who didn't make it to the mainland made their new home around the continent as an unbreakable chain; making sure no one got in, or out while he played his destructive game.

And a game it was to him, as he commanded his minions one by one as a hive mind, spreading chaos amongst the races that inhabited the land. And there were many races, new and old to this newest cycle of life. Humans, bi-pedal rats, even plant people were not uncommon in this new land.

But he didn't really care what they were. He unbiasedly cut them down one by one as he began to slowly poison the foreign land. He rose others there as well. Nobles and knights, to even ancient kings like Mazdak the Accursed. No one was safe from his all seeing wrath as he decimated their ranks.

And then everything changed.

The once divided races began to unite. Asura, Charr, Sylvari, Norn, and Human seemed to put aside their differences as they began to purge his forces en-mass. They shared technology and skills, and built together a force they called 'The Pact'. And they were a powerful force.

Using everything at their disposal the Pact took over an ancient fortress outside of his domain which they renamed Fort Trinity. Using their weapons and ships they charged forward, mowing down his minions left and right; they even took down his champion dragon of all things!

It was absurd, implausible, impossible, and altogether frightening. It was when he began to know anxiety for the first time, and fear. It was a little niggling feeling, so very strange and foreign. He didn't like it.

He tried to drown it out, through assuring himself and gorging himself upon magical artifacts of great power. But nothing erased the growing unease. He knew something was going to happen, and it was going to be right.

And he was right, it was bad.

In the holy city of Arah, where he weaved his own corruptions upon the world was he confronted by a group of people. A member from each race, they fought him viciously. They swung their swords, aimed their bows, and channeled their magics upon his undead hide. And when that proved to not be good enough they took their cannons and launched it upon his body.

It was a hard battle, both physically and mentally as they warred against one another viciously. And in the end, he lost. The group of heroes who set out against him slew him, undoing his melded body of corpses as if it was the most easiest thing in the world.

And he, the greatest elder dragon, Zhaitan fell, experiencing death for the first time.

But his battle wasn't over from there. In the ephemeral afterlife he was confronted by the entities the humans called gods. The arrogant group had dared to put his soul upon trial, judging their elder as though he were a child; and decided to banish him from their reality.

He roared and fought back viciously, and even wounded the upstart group. But his true death had weakened him, and the upstarts were able to banish his immortal soul from their plane of existence, sending him tumbling into the great void that separated the multitude of realities.

And in the void, he slept, and waited for the day he would one day reawaken.

* * *

Lord Voldemort sneered at the little baby that looked up to him with curious green eyes. His own eyes sparkled with spite in their pale ruby pools. Never before had the wizard felt so insulted in his long life; even when he was in the orphanage he wasn't humiliated as much as this.

Then again, when he was a kid there wasn't a prophecy that a baby of all things would be the one to defeat him. Mind you, it probably meant when the child themselves grew up. But the fact that a baby held the power to defeat him, Lord Voldemort, the greatest and darkest wizard of the century, was enough to make his blood boil.

What was worse was that he was sincerely paranoid of the child. While many a witch and wizard discounted divination as nothing more than fallacy; a fake branch of magic used to con other people.

But he knew better, both he and the ancient pure-bloods who kept to tradition knew it so very well. Fate was an actual being, a god-like entity who presided over their world of magic very heavily. It was she who put things into motion when their society began to stagnate, and in a way one could say she was the reason magic existed.

However despite her almost omnipotent presence, she wasn't an absolute power. People could break away from her plan, and defy her if they were smart enough, which was the reason why Voldemort had attacked the Potters this fine evening.

Using the power granted from Halloween night to all dark magic users, he would use his strengthened abilities to kill the child of prophecy and circumvent his fate. He wouldn't allow the child to grow powerful enough to defy him; and he couldn't take any chances since he didn't know the full prophecy.

So now here he stood, in front of little Harry Potter's crib, below him the cold dead body of Lily Potter lying to the side as if discarded. His yew wand was held stiffly in his hand as he glared balefully at the child who made little noises.

"It seems your family line shall die off today Potter. It's such a shame too, your family was quite a noble pure-blood line; even with that mudblood Evans. But they defied me just one too many times, and I can't allow you to grow up and defy me like them. So goodbye Harry Potter. Avada Kevadra!" The dark lord monologue before flicking his wand in a familiar motion.

The spell flared to life, its sickly green light darting towards little Harry Potter. Closer and closer it traveled, each centimeter causing the dark lord to smile even wider. Everything seemed to be in slow motion as it inched its way across the short expanse, but really it was only seconds before it hit its intended victim.

Brushing up against Harry's head, the sickly light of the killing curse seemed to glow around the child, causing Voldemort to balk in both confusion and a little bit of horror. And then little Harry Potter's eyes glowed. It wasn't the glow of the killing curse, nor was it the glow of his normal emerald eyes, but it was green. So very, very green, like the most sickly sweet poison waiting to rob everything of its life.

Voldemort goggled at the sight, his face comically contorted in confusion. And then everything exploded in a flurry of magic. The room's walls were practically ripped asunder under the unknown magical assault; splintering them and various knack knacks into very small pieces, if not dust. Voldemort himself screamed in rage as his own body was practically disintegrated by the powerful assault, and he screamed even more as his spirit was practically flung from the abode. The only one left unaffected by the maelstrom of power that shifted around them was Lily Potter, who was left untouched on the floor.

But just as soon as it started did it end. The magical forces dying down and the little baby in his crib falling to slumber; his ever glowing green eyes not changing back. Upon his brow, right above his recently closed eyes rested a new scar in the most peculiar lightning bolt shape.

It was this time that Albus Dumbledore rushed into the battered Potter house, only seconds late to miss the spectacle.

From there things went in full swing, with Dumbledore arranging for Harry's new place of residence and handing the sleeping baby off to Hagrid as he went to do damage control. The news of what happened had already leaked within the Wizarding World, despite barely and hour passing since the event in question; causing the wizards and witches of Britain to cheer and hail the name of Harry Potter.

All the while Harry Potter slept as he was taken across the isle by a flying motorcycle, unaware of what exactly had taken place, and even further unaware of the alien presence that began to seep heavily into his mind like lazy sludge.

Meanwhile, miles away at the Potter's home in Godric's Hollow, on the second floor in the nursery, Lily Potter's body gave a violent twitch, as it slowly began to rise up.


	12. Harry Kupo

**Disclaimer: As always, I own absolutely nothing from either Harry Potter or the Final Fantasy series, yatta yatta yatta.**

**Okay, for today's challenge I decided to do one of my old Harry Potter/ Final Fantasy plots where Harry gained a creature inheritance as a Moogle. Receiving his inheritance just before fourth year, how will he deal with not only the prejudice wizarding world, but also the Tri-Wizard tournament rearing its ugly head? Will he ever accept what he's become, or will he revile the choice that was taken out of his hands?  
**

* * *

**Harry Kupo**

When Harry Potter awoke on the day of his fourteenth birthday, there was nothing suspicious to tip him off that something was amiss; except perhaps the lack of his Aunt's rapping knock that usually awoke him. But such rude awakenings had long stopped during the start of his summer, when he let loose a little tidbit that the free 'mass murder' Sirius Black was his godfather and rather fond of him.

Still, despite the lack of annoying knocks, there was nothing to que the young wizard that anything was wrong. If anything, everything seemed to be quite grand.

There was no pain, from sleeping wrong on his lumpy mattress or eating something bad the other day. He wasn't drowsy either, in fact, he felt positively refreshed as he took in the clear blue skies and soft sunlight that leaked through the small window in his newest room

Perhaps that was the start when Harry began to get a bit suspicious, though he didn't really acknowledge the thought of him seeing positively clearly. If anything he took it in stride as a good day, and that perhaps he left his glasses on last night; and if that was the case he was even luckier he didn't break them nor suffered discomfort from wearing them last night, all the whilst discounting the fact that he couldn't even see clearly with said glasses.

In a way, he almost felt blissful as he lied in the semi-warm comfort of his bed, discounting all that was around him.

But bliss couldn't last forever, and Harry reluctantly shifted his body off the bed, jolting only marginally when his little furry feet touched the cold wooden floor.

Wait. Rewind. Furry little feet?

Harry craned his head a bit forward, his tiny nose scrunching up as he eyed said limb; confirming that yes, his feet were now tiny and furry, and almost similar to that of a rabbit's foot.

Whilst dumbly examining his foot, something puffy and green bumped into his face lightly, ticking his temple as it brushed past in his numb state. However whenever the young wizard attempted to move his head to face whatever was brushing up against him, the thing moved about elusively, taunting him.

The numb teenager, who if anyone was looking could clearly tell he was in shock, did the only logical thing his mind could come up with. He went to find a mirror; specifically a small square one his aunt tossed in his 'room' when its frame broke.

It was tucked away in the corner behind the rickety desk his room was fitted with; the slightly bent faux silver lining peeking out from the corner like a shy child.

Almost deliberately slowly, did Harry pull out the mirror form its slightly hidden confines; dully noting the fact his hand mimicked the fur on his feet, the only difference being the fact that they retained their human form completely. However he wished he didn't bother with the endeavor when he finally caught his appearance in the small reflective surface; which wasn't so small now considering his newest height.

It was obvious that he was no longer human, something he should have expected with the fur. Standing a bit under three feet, he appeared to be some manner of bi-pedal rabbit with long, pointed ears; He even had whiskers and a cute little pink nose.

His fur, which seemed to cover his entire body from his look, was rather fine, and a smokey gray color; the exception being the top of his head where a nest of cute flipping strands of black hair acted much like a human hairstyle. The only real discoloration in the entire pattern was a small patch of white fur at his temple that mimicked his lightning bolt scar.

As shocking as it was though, those seemed to be the most tame features of his overnight transformation; a fact he observed with growing dread. One of the more radical changes he could observe was a large pom-pom like fluff of fir which hung from a thin string like appendage attached to the top of his head; its own coloring matching that of his unobstructed eyes, which were far larger than they were yesterday.

The second, and last less tame feature Harry got wasn't necessarily observed for a great while as he stared in the mirror. In fact, he would have never taken notice of it if it weren't for the peculiar feeling his now gigantic shirt made when it brushed against his upper back.

By now Harry had wished he learned from his earlier mistake when he looked in the mirror, because he was certainly wishing he never sought the damn thing when he awkwardly positioned it to look at his back.

After all, being a rabbit with a pom-pom on your head was one thing. Being a rabbit with a pom-pom and tiny bat wings of all things was another thing.

He stared mutely at the appendage, which seemed to flap lazily to its own accord, as if waving to the body it was perched on. And at that moment it was as if a spell were broken, as Harry opened his mouth and screamed in an almost hysterical tone:

"Kupo!"

* * *

Harry didn't know what to make from the accepting, but sad look Dumbledore gave him from across his desk at Hogwarts. The look, while somewhat comforting, did nothing but make Harry's stomach churn in anticipation for what the headmaster had to say.

Several moments seemed to pass as the two just stared at one another. Harry, his eyes filled with emotional turmoil as his tiny body, so frail and scared seemed to sink further in the swallowing depths of the squishy chair Dumbledore seemed so fond of. And Dumbledore, the aged headmaster seemed to be grasping at straws, as if perplex at how start out.

It really was a strange sight to see, the normally unflappable man suddenly looking as if he didn't know exactly what to do. It wasn't all that reassuring to Harry, but Dumbledore seemed to recognize it as he gave him a sheepish smile.

"I suppose that today hasn't been all that easy for your Mr. Potter, and I must confess I find myself perplexed in many ways just as you are; but that won't solve anything I'm afraid. But fret not, I do have the answers to all of your questions." the elderly man placated as he smiled down upon the tiny teenager.

Harry just seemed to feel worse, especially since Dumbledore of all people was confused by his issue, though he did count it as a blessing that he seemed to have some idea of what happened. And he couldn't help but stop the next question that tumbled from his lips. "What..what's happened to me?"

The headmaster bushy beard seemed to twitch in a manner that belayed a smile; though it was hard not to guess why with the squeaky, yet cute voice Harry seemed to attain with his transformation. Though he sobered up just as quickly when he saw the petulant look being shot his way.

"I suppose that is the easiest of things to explain my boy. You see, Wizard's and Witch's as a whole have what is known as an 'inheritance', though not in the usual way of that word. I guess you could call this inheritance a sort of metamorphosis any magical person undergoes, where they mature and can gain something new, like latent magical traits or an increase in their magical cores," Dumbledore spoke precisely, enrapturing Harry in his own explanation.

"However sometimes a young wizard or witch can undergo a more complicated inheritance; a creature inheritance so to say. And the term is quite literal in that fact, as the person inherits the literal race of an other-racial ancestor. Which is what happened to you."

Dumbledore took a deep breath, pausing from his long explanation as Harry numbly took everything in. The elderly man couldn't help but pity his student, perhaps his most favorite of students. The young boy had so much heaped upon his shoulders it was unfair, and he would have more heaped upon it in the future, he was certain. But for fate to have given him these cards was unnaturally cruel.

However Harry seemed to take it in stride, or shock it seemed; and Dumbledore could only hope that he wouldn't be too wrecked when the shock wore off. But for now Harry seemed to only exhibit disbelief as he opened and closed his mouth, unsure what to say. But he eventually choked out a quiet, "I...I understand. B-but what am I?"

Dumbledore just gave an assuring smile down to the boy, trying his best to ease his discomfort in this trying time.

"That's a rather simple thing Mr. Potter. You are, from your appearance, a moogle." The headmaster began, causing his listener to tilt his head cutely at the unfamiliar word, causing the elderly man to smile even wider.

"Though by your look I assume you don't know what a moogle is, not that I fault you. Many magicals don't know about them, since they don't much toil in our society. In fact, those who do know of them assume for the most part that they've gone extinct. But your appearance as one obviously proves that to be false." Dumbledore said ruefully, forcing a reluctant smile from his charge.

"Then again, there's so many rumors surrounding moogle kind themselves that there are possibly many more out there; some which could possibly teach you further in depth about what you've become." Here the headmaster shot a meaningful look at Harry, who couldn't help but be touched by the older man's silent kindness and willingness to help him.

"But I suppose that doesn't explain too much about what a moogle exactly is. I will admit that the physical workings of a moogle are lost to me, as little knowledge was recorded of such. However I do know that they are a highly magical race, and very intelligent at that; though they're known to be rather friendly if somewhat childish by nature usually. I wouldn't be all that surprised if you became a little genius after becoming one" The man complimented, getting another shy smile out from his charge.

But soon another silence descended upon the duo, originating from the fierce look of concentration both seemed to have. But Dumbledore seemed to be the master of defusing any situation that could arrive, and quickly knocked Harry off the railroad of thoughts that would undoubtedly lead him into a depressing monologue with a quirky little quip of;

"There's nothing more I can do yet my boy, except tell you that you're not alone and that you shouldn't be ashamed of what you are. But I think you'd be more appreciative of some new clothes that didn't smother you." he eyed the large teenage sized shirt Harry currently wore with meaning, causing the boy to give a sheepish but grateful smile.

* * *

That was hours ago, and how Harry stood patiently by the front door of the burrow along with Dumbledore who acted as a silent pillar of support to the emotionally turmoiled boy.

Luckily for Harry though he was better cleaned up than he was earlier, this time sporting clothing that wouldn't swallow him whole. It wasn't extravagant, if anything it was rather plain; consisting of a pair of black shorts, at least they looked to be, and a silver shirt that was hidden underneath a tiny black robe which was nothing more than adorable.

To top it off he wore a little stereotypical witch hat that curled comically at the end. The only thing that really made it deviate from a regular hat were the three holes fashioned into it that allowed his ears, and 'pom-pom' to flap about without being crushed under said hat.

It really was an adorable little outfit, especially so considering what Harry exactly looked like. But the moogle boy still couldn't resist wrinkling his tiny, cute nose at it when he saw it; no matter how grateful he was.

Then again, he should have expected this since Dumbledore transfigured the outfit, not willing to throw Harry to the sharks that masqueraded themselves as the public. It was a kind gesture, really it was, but sometimes that old man could be infuriating.

Still, clothing aside, Harry couldn't help the nervousness that pooled in his stomach as his mentor knocked against the door; beckoning the occupants within.

He anticipated the Weasley's family reaction to his newest appearance, a silly thing considering they were rather open and accepting family. But logic has no ruling when it comes to the matters of the heart, and the redheaded family with too many children was far closer to his heart than he sometimes realized; and it would kill him if they rejected him.

And that's how he found himself stiffening for whatever inevitable conversation that would spill from Mrs. Weasley's mouth when he saw the robust matronly women open her home's door from the corner of her eye.

"Oh, Headmaster! What a pleasant surprise, I wasn't expecting you." The woman greeted with a smile to the old man, who returned it in kind. However her expression quickly shifted to that of confusion when she caught movement by the beloved Headmaster's legs.

"..Or your guest either. Mind telling me who yo- Harry!" The woman began to speak, her tone kind as she looked at the obvious non-human guest, only to shout in surprise when she caught who it was. Because to the motherly woman, it was obvious who it was, with his large green eyes no one else seemed to possess, or the telling lightning bolt marking upon his brow; though it was made out of fur instead of scar tissue.

"What..How in the..." The woman fluttered about in confusion, her own hands patting and rubbing against Harry in a way that belayed not only worry, but also confusion; as if it were trying to make sense of the change or she was trying to find an invisible injury.

Harry just stiffened, his eyes widening and his nose scrunching up as he braced for the rude comments that may have come, such as the words of freak or likewise. Even Dumbledore frowned worriedly at his charge, hoping nothing bad would happen to the boy; as he obviously trusted the Weasley's to help him with his newest challenge.

However whatever worries they may have had were unnecessary when Mrs. Weasley took the small moogle boy into her arms, and gave him a smother hug as she declared, "When did you get so cute!"


	13. Jack of Magic Lucy

**A/N: I own nada as usual.**

**For today's challenge we have a Fairy Tail/Harry Potter crossover that's a bit different from the usual plots I do. This lovely little challenge was actually spawned from the few Lisanna replaces Lucy storylines I tend to bump into on that side of fanfiction. It began as a sort of parody inverse of most ideas I saw concerning it, with Lucy staying in the guild and having Makarov give her help during these times, but in the end I decided to switch his own role with Severus. Which ended up with a sort of Ladylike jack of multiple trades Lucy, and an AU timeline that's been messed about with.**

**So in summary, Severus Snape wasn't able to cross over to the other side after his death at the shrieking shack. Unable to find out why he couldn't cross over, Snape was forced to witness the change of the world and magic; and even watch as Hogwarts fell to the might of time. However despite such radical changes he never once changed nor did anything in his death, even when spirits like himself were no longer able to be seen by future mages. So it would come to his surprise that he did act and help one lonely blond girl who vaguely reminded him of a few past allies.**

**Meanwhile Lucy has been left bereft of her team, stepping down temporarily so they could do missions with their recently returned childhood friend. However without Natsu and Gray to throw up a fuss around her, she has slowly began to fade into the background in Fairy Tail; add to the fact she barely sees her team due to bad timing, well, suffice to say Lucy is miserable. So when she got a magic book on her bed one day, she never thought it would change her. Though for better or worse, no one could tell.**

* * *

**The Jack of Magic Lucy**

The sun sat lazily in the sky, its golden rays shining without abandon upon the town of Magnolia, wrapping both townspeople and streets alike in a sticky heat without bias. Those who were spared the pain of having to work eagerly spent their day inside their homes, doing their best to keep cool on such a hot day; eagerly turning their thoughts away from their relatives or lovers who had to work in such heat.

On the other hand, those who were of a more brave nature would tearfully bid farewell to their loved ones before dashing out into the baking streets, intent on hoarding the heavenly known things as iced-treats and drinks sold in various taverns and restaurants.

Lucy Heartfilia happened to be one of these aforementioned brave people, who courageously took to the baking streets of Magnolia so she could get a lovely treat of the icy kind at her guild Fairy Tail. And as she sat at her regular seat at the bar, sipping away at a lovely milkshake that was given to her by Mirajane, she couldn't help but regret her decision almost immediately.

Everyone in the guild, young or old, new or seasoned, had for lack of better words, ignored her. Well, that's an exaggeration of the situation, it was more like they deemed her unimportant and simply brushed her off. Her normal cheerful greetings seemed to fall flat on most of the member's ears, heck, the most conversation she even got in the guild lately was when Mirajane asked her order; and then the rest could barely be called small talk.

Though that's not to say it wasn't necessarily bad. It wasn't as though she was reviled, yelled at, or totally passed over twenty-four seven. Some people still humored her with a few comments, like Cana, Macao, Levy, and even Juvia was around now and again to hiss at her over Gray. Her spirits were also there too, though she would rather not bother them for something as simple as conversation.

But there was no doubt that the one lively, familial aura that bound all members of Fairy Tail as a family was simply disintegrating from her. With every passing day it felt as though she was drifting further and further from the band of rowdy mages she grew quite fond of. Kind of like a child left out from a game of catch.

Usually Lucy would have just toughed it out, probably excuse it as people being busy or something of the like and distract herself with a good book, some shopping, or by hanging about with her team. But she couldn't do that anymore, hang out with her team that was; or should she say, ex-team.

That's right, she, Lucy Heartfilia, was no longer a member on Team Natsu; and as much as she balked at the very idea, there was a small part of her that raged over the fact that her 'leave' from the team was what began her slow disillusionment of Fairy Tail being a family and what was happening to her now.

However she could never bring herself to yell such an idea, let alone say it. After all, it wasn't like they viciously kicked her off whilst telling her how weak she was, or going out of their way to physically harm her. If anything, she agreed to leaving the team for awhile whilst they reacquainted with the back-from-the-dead Lisanna on a few missions.

After all, what type of person would she be if she denied her own Nakama the right to spend time with their childhood friend they recently got back? If anything, she was grateful to be bereft of her team whilst they were with her, not wanting to feel like a third wheel whilst they talked of shared childhood memories.

And it wasn't as though she could legitimately go with her team while they were with Lisanna. Team Natsu was already reknown as a destructive force, to the point where anymore members on the team would probably cause a panicked outcry from both the magical communities and outlying cities. And since the master was apart of the Ten Saint Wizards, well, it wasn't hard to see that he did put a limit on the team recently.

Lucy felt stupid however for giving her consent. Because those 'few missions' soon became 'more missions', until it came to the point where Team Natsu didn't bother making some form of excuse or even explaining, just simply walking in and talking to her like nothing happened before whisking themselves off on some new mission; leaving Lucy alone in the guild once again.

After awhile, she was forced to take solo-missions just to pay her own rent while she waited. Unlike her time with Team Natsu, the missions were rather pleasant, devoid of the shenanigans that usually followed the pink haired dragon slayer; but at the same token they felt so much colder, less personal than usual.

With her taking up missions again, her time with seeing her friends became few and far between; both her and their jobs conflicting when it came to time. And that was about the time the guild seemed to start their detachment to her. Without her old team to make a ruckus around her, she simply fell into obscurity, almost as though she were a wallflower; which was a particularly low blow to her pride.

But she didn't blame Team Natsu, nor did she even blame Lisanna for what was happening. If anything, she was happy for them, if albeit lonely. Besides, she was a tough woman, she would be fine on her own for awhile.

Sure, it hurt her emotionally what was happening, and sometimes gave her Deja Vu of her own slightly lonesome childhood with her father, but there was no reason for anything extreme to happen. She wouldn't cry at the drop of a hat, or scream at Natsu for his denseness when it came to her emotions; because he was just being his old dense self.

And she wouldn't leave the guild either for something so petty. Because really, leaving a guild because you didn't get enough attention? It was laughable. Besides, being in Fairy Tail provided her with too many opportunities despite her own turmoil. Not only did she get protection whilst being apart of it, but she could get legal work that would allow her to live on her own away from her father.

So really, there was no reason to do anything extreme. If anything, Lucy did what had become routine for her now a days. She would lounge about in the guild for the rest of the day, enjoying the drink and food until dusk began to creep up; at which point she would take her normal route at the edge of the canal home.

And that's exactly what Lucy did when the hot rays of the sun vanished beyond the horizon. However when she got home and entered her bedroom, she didn't expect to see a most peculiar book upon her pillow.

What made the book so special wasn't some lively color, nor unusual font. Instead it was the almost lazily scrawled title of 'Thought Projection' etched upon its surface; denoting it was a magic book.

Unbeknownst to Lucy at this time, it would be one of many other magical books that she would find in her possession.

* * *

Severus Snape was never a man to indulge in a frivolous false smiles or sickeningly sweet compassion. He was a man of cynical logic which preferred the company of those who used their brains more than their hearts, and wasn't above using his own cunning nature to benefit himself; and in the past, those he swore his loyalty to.

And in death, Serverus Tobias Snape was no different. Well, except for the fact that he was, well, dead.

The fact remained though that the man had not changed his ways despite his newest living conditions, and even the great power wielded by time did little to change his scowling face and whispers of dunderheads from his wraith like form on Hogwart's grounds.

Even when time erased what was known of Hogwarts, and blurred the line between muggles and magicals he did not heed its call to change. He never ceased to scowl, or make a disparaging comment now and again when the magicals lost the ability to hear and see spirits like himself; and nor did he ever stop when the very magic he grew up with began to warp and change along with the world itself. And he absolutely refused to bow down when the site of his once childhood school and second home became a sprawling town known as Magnolia in this new world.

Because if there was ever one truth to be uttered about Snape between the lies and acts he put on whilst living, it was that he was a stubborn man and was set in his ways.

So it would come to a surprise to him when suddenly, one day, he did change.

It wasn't a sudden change. He didn't just stop scowling and broke into a large carefree grin like a Hufflepuff would. He didn't sing and prance his spectral self around a set of daisies. And he most certainly didn't start spouting out a poem of love or the likes.

No, it was more like he began to feel, dare he say, sympathy, for the first time in many years; an emotion which almost felt foreign after so many years spent as a ghost in the world. And the focus of his sympathy you may ask?

Why, it was none other than Lucy Heartfilia, the recently displaced member on Team Natsu, and member of the guild Fairy Tail which he had taken to watching these past few years.

Now don't get Snape wrong, he didn't pity the girl. Pity was one of the last emotions he would ever feel for someone, not to mention it was far too much of an emotion for such a petty situation; or so he told himself.

No, it was just a simple smidgen of sympathy he began to feel for the girl at the start. Not for her situation, more than for what she reminded him of.

It was almost a harsh slap to the face with what she reminded him of; though it wasn't in the physical aspect. She held a glaring similarity to many individuals when he was once alive long ago.

Her keen intelligence which was only tapered by her compassion, just like his lovely Lily. A love for books far and wide, like his once student Hermione. Out of the box thinking, cunning almost, like his once headmaster Dumbledore had displayed once or twice. Feisty, catty really, like Lucius would get if someone insulted him rightly.

But not all similarities were positive that he saw. She was vain, much like the once loathsome James Potter, and her out of the box thinking more than once reminded him of the mutt, Sirius. She got angry easily as well like the Marauders, or Ron Weasley. And she was stubborn, sticking like a leach to her convictions like Lily's son.

Like Harry Potter.

Though what struck him the most, like a blow to the gut, was her similarity to...him.

She wasn't a poor waif of a boy, nor was she reviled for being of the wrong house. No, she was the daughter of the richest man in the world, a position which would garner her much favor and brown-nosing.

Yet despite the differences there was an eerie parallel. Both she and her mother were the only magicals in their family, and she was Lucy's most caring parent. Her father, who had no magic, while never physical, was emotionally abusive. Her mother was taken far too early from her, and left her alone with the gruff man.

The only difference was that she had a household staff to take care of her and befriend her. But the differences between the care of a paid staff, and ones parent was a far different thing.

And then her relationship with Natsu, it reminded him so much of his childhood friendship with Lily. He was the first magical her age she met, and befriended when she ran away from her father's household; and was the one she became the most attached to despite both his and her faults.

And like he and Lily, they drifted off because of one little word. His, a slur on her blood, and hers, a simple acceptance. Yet, it all had the same effect. Their first friend was gone, estranged from themselves.

And unlike some of the previous adventures, which he had learned from listening and from seeing letters left out in the girl's home on his way around the city, he bore witness to that event. It was then that the seed of sympathy had planted itself, and began to grow.

Until one day, a mere month and a half after the growing rift between the girl and her once team, Snape decided to act.

Whilst he was rendered invisible and mute in this new world of magic, it hardly meant Snape was powerless. After all, while he may have lost his visible form, he gained something far better. He gained the ability to interact with the physical plane, much like a poltergeist, as had most other spirits from the past; as he would theorize.

And he used this to his advantage when he lifted a book from the Fairy Tail storage room and discreetly brought it to the girl's apartment. It wasn't anything important, nor big, but it was more than enough.

It was a magic book that taught the spell 'Thought Projection', a form of illusion used by some of the mages in this new age.

He had no specific reason for picking the book, nor did he had some grand plan for the girl. It was but a simple gift of sympathy, or so he would tell himself. But he knew why he got her a book, especially one about magic.

He was after all a professor, no matter how much time had passed, and as a professor it was his job to teach. Though there was another underlying reason, one caused from the face slap of Deja Vu he got whenever he saw certain bits of her personality.

She reminded him so much of himself when he was estranged from Lily. The weakness of confidence, the yearning, and the grim acceptance; though she seemed to bare no ill will unlike himself with James Potter.

However, he didn't want Lucy to become like himself, to repeat past mistakes. He didn't want her to run to the arms of a lunatic or some ill-willed individual who showed her enough compassion in her hour of weakness.

No, he wanted her strong, like he became under his years of serving both Dumbledore and Voldemort. And this book would be the first step on her way to getting stronger; as long as she took the hint that was.

He just never expected for it to go beyond just a few books.

* * *

Luckily for both parties, Lucy took the hint; though not in the typical sense. There was no thoughts of training, or becoming stronger. Instead it was to be a simple distraction, something unique to read when she was at home or on a solo-mission. After all, one didn't get a free instructional magic book everyday.

And that's exactly what Lucy did, she read the book as a distraction on her off time when she wasn't inside the guild. It wouldn't be until the following Thursday that she would attempt the spell instructed while she was in a small rural town doing a mission.

The reason behind her practicing of the spell wasn't caused by anything dramatic. It wasn't like she was attacked by a group of bandits she couldn't defeat, nor was her life legitimately threatened to where she felt the need to get stronger. In fact, her reason behind it was kind of petty in the long run.

It was for nothing more than simple convenience during her mission in destroying a magical tool; and in a way the mission reminded her about the first one she took while on Team Natsu. Much like before there was a well off man with something in his collection someone wanted destroyed, though unlike last time it was a mildly dangerous charm ring instead of a cleverly written book. And like the previous duke this man's house staff was a daunting task force which even she would be hard pressed to get around.

Sure, she could have summoned Loke, or Virgo to help her in destroying the ring, but the client called for digression on this mission; not wanting any chance of suspicion to arise. And unlike last time, Lucy didn't have the luxury of at least trying to become a maid in the other's manor.

Which meant she had to gather intel before she even tried anything. But gathering said intel would be nothing short of painful in such a small community, and any mistakes could put too much suspicion on her, and possibly warrant involving the local authorities. And using any celestial spirits was out of the question, as their forms would give them away.

Luckily for herself, Lucy was an intelligent woman who knew how to use the materials she had on hand, though sometimes in a convoluted way. Thankfully her idea was a bit less unique than the pitfall she made on Galuna island, and far more plausible than anything else.

After all, the new blond girl staying in town couldn't possibly be in two places at once.

And with that thought she practiced for a week and a half, every moment she got. Which was a lot, considering there wasn't much she could do other than getting food, bathing, or some other simple shopping that wouldn't break her coin purse whilst she was out and about.

Lucy would admit though when asked, that it was quite a difficult task to undertake, especially when her teacher was but a book. Not that it was really surprising, considering the only magic she had ever trained in was with the Celestial Magic her mother taught her.

Which showed, rather glaringly when she tried the new spell. On her first four attempts she didn't even get anything viable. No little wiggle or tingling, just a simple drain of wasted magic that never took form. But Lucy was stubborn, and prideful. She wouldn't let her failure on such a simple piece of magic downtrodden her. If anything it pushed her even further, and added to the fact she didn't have Natsu, Erza, or even Gray to distract her, well, it wasn't like she had anything else to do.

Her fifth attempt was luckily much better. She managed to form a bit of an 'afterimage' of her pinky. Which soon became two fingers, then a hand, before it became an arm, and then an arm and a leg as she continued to push herself through the passing days.

A week and a half later, Lucy was feeling proud when she stared down her doppelganger, who was for all intents and purposes a puppeted mirror of her. She would admit the spell wasn't as intricate as she hoped. She couldn't see through it's eyes nor feel its senses, instead it was more like a vague link between her and it; not unlike that which she held with her Celestial Spirits when they were summoned.

However where her Celestial Spirits would feel warm, lively, and passionate, this link radiated nothing more than a sort of paper thin, malleable falseness; sort of like a piece of paper that was ready to be written on, and that she could go back to reference for information either she or the outside scribbled on it.

In the end her plan worked perfectly. She was able to use her newest spell to collect information on the mansion and its occupants whilst she dwaddled around town creating an alibi. Two days later she was able to sneak in and destroy the mildly dangerous charm ring without any problems to her or her client.

Lucy not only ended up netting a nice little bonus for keeping things quiet, but also gained something a bit less tangible. A sort of accomplishment and independence which came from knowing you grew up a little more, became a bit more stronger through your own hard work.

It would be the start of an almost obsession for Lucy, who began to slowly understand the meaning and ramifications of overspecialization, and that learning other non-celestial magic was indeed okay.

So it was little to no surprise that she began to practice the magic listed in the mysterious books that found their ways into her home; though she did question them at time. After all, who would break into someones house and leave what were possibly valuable magic books behind for the occupants? But after awhile Lucy began to hardly care, in fact, she was grateful for it, and would end up offering a thanks now and again for it, as though they could hear her from wherever they were.

It was only right. After all, they were practically giving her free training, and allowing her to take on more difficult missions without a team; a team she was slowly but surely becoming less hurt over as she trained harder and harder.

Her newest books, and magic to follow were much like Thought Projection. They weren't necessarily some deep forbidden magic lost to time, but they were nonetheless helpful; both on and off the field.

Telekenesis was her next spell, followed by a well written book about sleep magic. Both were basic yet they were rather effective supplementary spells in her slowly filling arsenal. Especially when she used them in conjunction with her own Celestial Summons. After all, nothing says and easy fight like a half asleep bandit going up against Loke.

There were a few spells she also got to learn that she probably would never use, nor practice. The Moon Drip was a good example of a spell that fell into her grasp. She would probably never have a use for it, especially after the debacle after Galuna island, but it was nonetheless nice to know she had the theory behind casting it should she ever need it.

It was only when Lucy began to get magic books of a higher class that things suddenly began to change; and not for the worse thankfully. Each new book she began to attain started to hold little notes and writings in it.

At the start they were little notes, tips and tricks she would have never known from the general instructions given in the books; and along with the notes there were a few comments many would find offensive, such as the term dunderhead which popped up more than she would like.

Naturally Lucy raged at this at first, and yelled out dramatically "Who the hell! I'm no dunderhead!" the first few times she saw this. After all, anyone would be angry at having their mental faculties called into question.

But she couldn't be completely angry at them, they were pretty helpful after all when she began to read up on water magic. Without them there was no doubt she would have never grasped the basic concepts of the magic. Though there was no doubt she would never be as great as Juvia when it came to it, she could perform it to an adequate degree when she began.

Though as time progressed, both the nature of the notes and her opinion began to steadily change.

Like when she began to learn how to dispell magic, or well, magical objects, the notes seemed less cutting than usual, and at times began to even feel a subtle amount of praise as she read in between little tricks to help her.

And when she tried, and failed to learn lightning magic, the notes were, dare she say, consoling in their own way; even when she lost her cool more than once at only being able to make just a tiny spark.

Soon however her notes began to become more personal, almost, dare she say, familial when they began to teach more than little tricks behind the magic she was learning. Soon there were other little here-says on the notes. Like how to take certain herbs that could be found in the wild and how to turn them into medicinal like elixirs that could help her or others.

Life lessons were also hammered down on her in the wonderful notes presented to her. Though out of all of these lessons, there was one which stuck to her more fiercely than the rest; and she was glad it did, especially considering she didn't take it serious the first time she saw it.

After all, the notion of 'appearances being deceiving' was something cliche every parent tells their kid, who would simply nod and not really pay attention to it. The fact that the life lesson told her to use this fact to her advantage, well, Lucy didn't really pay that much attention to it.

After all, she was assured of her power at that point. She trained restlessly without distraction, even while she was on missions; and she had a healthy dose of different magics under her fingertips, something which many mages couldn't say; though she was no master of them all. Her pride and ego was inflated from it.

So it was a shock when she went on a mission, and not only was she effectively passed up for another mage, but was also practically beaten senseless by said mage as well when she raised a fuss about his magic compared to hers.

The man who went by the name of Mr. Butterscotch was much like his name implied. A dapper older gentleman who wore a smart looking caramel suit, he looked every inch of an aristocrat who relied more on money than his own hard work.

So it was shocking to say the least when he overpowered her with a nice bit of advanced earth magic, that easily trumped any magic or spirits she tried to throw at him.

It was by Mr. Butterscotch that she not only learned a valuable lesson, but her growing ego over the number of magics she learned was popped. Something which she was thankful for.

It also affirmed the idea of taking the earlier advice the mysterious notes offered her in using her own appearance to her advantage. Naturally she tried using her regular appearance to her advantage, though it did little to help her.

Her outfit and style was simply too open, too neutral really. One would simply look at it and pass it over unless she somehow caught their attention. And by that point there would be no under or over estimation over her person by someone with mild intelligence, just a simple sort of observation.

It was to no advantage to her, which meant only one thing; a make over. Such an idea would be somewhat appealing to Lucy, who's vanity would soar at the thought of new outfits and the like. But there was one issue. What type of image did she want to display?

Did she want to be the uppity punk everyone would underestimate? Or would she be the dashing knight like Erza displayed herself as? There were so many choices, and each one was more fantastical than the last that it made the blond girl almost drool.

And then reality came crushing down when a letter, not a book, but a letter with familiar script made it's way to her room the next afternoon.

She was enraged, embarrassed, and sufficiently chastised by the letters logical and dream crashing contents; but she couldn't refute what it said, though she was a bit weirded out over it, considering it meant that the person had intimate details of her talking to herself in her own home, but that could come later considering she had yet to ever find her mysterious benefactor.

Their idea however was both genius as it was simple, and made use of something she already knew. Having been raised by one of the richest men in Earthland, she grew up knowing the mannerisms and pleasantries associated with the upper-crust of society; so why not use that to her advantage?

After all, she dismissed Mr. Butterscotch as being a push over for looking like an aristocrat. Who's not to say the same would happen with their enemies if they thought she was just some noble woman who probably couldn't clean her own bedroom let alone fight?

The outfit for such a look would be pricy, and would undoubtedly put a dent in her wallet, but it would be worth it as much she disliked it; associating it with her father from the past. But the benefits far outweighed the disadvantages, and she would be a fool not to do so.

Never one when she was going through with it did Lucy ever consider the fact that she herself was changing as she slowly withdrew from her own friends and guild.

However her new wardrobe wasn't changed overnight. If anything like her training it was a gradual thing she worked towards as she trained. After all, she couldn't just afford a few hundred jeweled dress right off the bat; even if she was doing new missions.

Though it was obvious to Fairy Tail that she was changing when she began to come into the guild hall in affordable dresses that gave her a good deal of movement. Even Mirajane noticed and complimented it, much to Lucy's embarrassment and joy at the time.

As her outfits slowly began to change, so did Lucy's repertoire of spells.

After her revelation and subsequential re-hauling of her training, this time without getting a fatter head than last time, newer and far more high class spell books began to make themselves known.

The first was the most surprising, the Maximum Defense Seal. Not only was it a very powerful piece of magic, but it was perhaps one of the best defenses she had ever heard. However unlike the other magics she learned, it was without a doubt that she would not master it without years of training. And her best attempt at using it always left her drained of most, if not all of her magic afterwards, making it even more difficult to train in.

Teleport was the second to join, and it was one of her more useful supplementary spells she learned next to thought projection; it make some of her more discreet, higher level missions much easier. The notes she got from her mysterious benefactor were also very enlightening on the spell, making it incredibly easy. Though unlike the other versions she viewed before hers always seemed to have the unfortunate effect of sounding like a firecracker from her arrival and departure; something she had yet to get around, along with distance.

The final branch of magic, not to mention most powerful and effective branch, she learned was none other than Light Magic; just like the Master. She was positively shocked when she received not only one, but multiple books detailing the use of it.

It was the easiest magic that came to Lucy, surprisingly; though her Celestial magic would probably still remain far above it for many years until her regular training caught it up. But there was no denying it was her best branch of magic in all those she was afforded to learn.

And practice she did with it and all other magics, furthering her until she could take even more difficult missions at the guild, much to her surprise and her guild mates worry; or the worry of those who paid attention.

But there was no denying she was getting stronger, and was changing; both emotionally, physically, and magically as time progressed.

Even her appearance as a 'young noble woman' was slowly changing. With more money coming in at her disposal, and more practice and training, she found her original attire changing from the airy movable dresses and comfortable shoes like a child would wear, to long gowns a woman of high standing would wear along with heels and shawls. Her ribbons were also exchanged hats of varying styles to compliment her outfits, like letting go of a childhood comfort in a way.

She even allowed her hair to lengthen with time, if to further both her cover and vanity. And while she may have still been the same Lucy inside as always, she found her outwards self mellowing out much like a cool cucumber; something which made her laugh merrily, especially when she saw her guild react to it, or those who noticed it.

Still, playing as the polite, mellow noble woman really was beneficial; and she learned a form of satisfaction for pulling it off. A satisfaction Mr. Butterscotch and her benefactor must have known, because there was nothing more fun than proving bandits or the odd mage that she was far more than she appeared.

It was almost difficult to realize that a year had practically passed since the start of her change, and subsequential amazing foray into the world of magical spells.

She knew she was nowhere near a master, knowing that her own magic power was what gave her the most leeway when casting spells instead of veteran experience; though her hellish training was also a great asset as well.

It was also hard to believe that she had slowly began to let go of the sadness from being bereft of not only her team, but also most of the bonds in her guild. And it was even harder to realize that she hadn't seen Natsu and the gang for many months since the start of her own transformation, both of their missions leaving them to never meet within a guild, nor at their homes when the others would pop in unannounced.

So it would come to both a pleasant, and unpleasant surprise that both their times of non-meeting were about to come to an end, and with a very special announcement of the annual S-Class Tests.

* * *

Lucy walked down the streets slowly, her own silver heels barely making a click as they met the cobbled road. Those who knew nothing of the young woman gawked at her, their eyes wide with admiration, or in some cases jealousy. For others who happened to know the young woman from passing or by her occupation, they gave little joyous hellos to her and compliments; having already bore witness to her transformation over the passing months .

And really both sides reactions weren't surprising considering Lucy's appearance. She was clad in a slender dress that was a lovely shade of periwinkle. It curved lasciviously around her figure, emphasizing a figure that had been slendered by months of training. Silver embroidery was plentiful on it, making opulent designs that waterfall-ed down until they all hit mid-knee, where they were abruptly ended by a sea of mercury silver ruffles that made a small, bloom like train around her feet.

She was accessorized plentiful as well, with two fragile, dangling silver earings that were encrusted with gemstones that looked suspiciously similar to sapphires; a matching necklace on an equally fragile chain was also present. A shawl that looked like liquid silver, flecked with bits of sparkling gold, almost like stars, rested easily in the crook of her arms.

Her now long hair was left loose, cascading down her back in a form of controlled chaos, that was only offset by a tiny color-matching top hat that was set askewed at the back right of her head; which was further fashioned with a prim little ribbon that looked suspiciously like her regular ones.

To finish off her ensemble was her set of celestial keys, though no one could see the lovely gold and silver devices. Considering unlike her outfit, she had hidden them in the crux of her bosom, ready to draw and surprise anyone who would ambush her.

However there was no doubt Lucy was inherently different from how she acted a whole year ago when everything went down, and to be honest both she, and most likely the populace at large would have consider it for the better.

Even the start of her transformation was painful. Even if she wasn't some ultra master of magic, instead being a sort of dabbler into many arts. Even if she never would meet her benefactor, who had set everything in motion with their books and notes. She would admit, without nary a doubt, that she was grateful.

And as she stood outside of Fairy Tail, her feet having automatically taking her there, staring at the sky as if lost in though, Lucy couldn't help but whisper, "Thank you."

She would never know the small, almost grateful yet sardonic smile that grew on Serverus Snape's face at her admission of thanks. Nor would she know her role in allowing the ancient wizard to finally pass into the afterlife, having passed on his own knowledge to one he could almost proudly call an apprentice.

She would know however the loud, almost deafening sound of Natsu yelling "Lucy! Is that you?" in the most disbelieving voice ever as they had met for the first time in after a year; which was also followed by an almost even louder sound of 'Eh?!' as a few others took notice of her new appearance.


	14. The White Wizard

**A/N: Noting is mine as usual.**

**Okeydokey everybody, it's been awhile since I've gotten to writing new challenges! But with life slowing down, I'll have a bit more time to flood my story with a lot more crossover ideas! Also before I forget, a quick apology for not replying to my reviews lately, again, kinda got caught up with things.**

**Now with that out of the way, today's crossover challenge is a Harry Potter/Ni No Kuni idea, so there will be some spoilers present for Ni no Kuni. When Harry Potter was four years old, he gained a rather peculiar set of voices in his head he dubbed as his 'imaginary friends'. When he was five, he learned that his imaginary friends weren't quite as imaginary, and learned that magic was more real than he thought. At six he threw away the invisible shackles that bound him to his relatives. And when he was eight, he took upon the mantle of the White Wizard alongside his once imaginary friends and now council, the Zodiarchs.**

* * *

**The White Wizard**

Petunia Dursley knew without a doubt in her mind that her nephew was a freak. There was no if ands or buts about it, even when she found him on her doorstep after that dreadful day of Halloween, with nothing more than a baby blanket and a parchment letter being his only possessions.

And she had hated the young boy, baby really, upon sight. It was a poisonous kind of hate, the type that was born from deep inset anger, jealousy, and loneliness. It was the hatefulness Petunia had once reserved for her 'perfect' sister Lily, and now, it belonged to Harry who she knew even before she opened up the letter left in his grasp; and written on the disgusting parchment her sister's kind seemed to favor.

After all, Petunia would have to be an utter moron to not recognize her sister's own eyes, those beautiful green orbs which put her light blues to shame. It only added more fuel to her hate, especially when it compared it to her perfectly normal child's watery blue eyes.

Of course when she first saw the brat there were no profound thoughts or quiet contemplation over the child; just screaming from shock and surprise when she saw the abnormal sight on her porch, and those all too familiar eyes. Vernon, bless his soul, was quick to come to her distress and from there everything just spiraled out of control, far too out of control for her own liking.

The letter left with the brat had seen to that, making both her and Vernon fret over the idea of being spied on by the freaks. But it also added coals to the fire of her hate, because Petunia was a shrewd woman, and no amount of flouncy script could keep her from seeing between the lines in this situation; she was after all the best gossip on her block, and she had long since learned how words were used to another's advantages.

Not only was it bad enough that her sister and her husband were major supporters against some man who was likened to a magical version of Hitler, but it seemed that this same man also had an unnatural obsession with her sister's freak spawn; who had apparently defeated the other...wizard.

The fact that a baby defeated not only an adult, but an adult who was used to using his freakishness to do cruel things to good, respectful people like her was downright laughable. However, laughable or not, the very idea that even a rumor like this was circulating about...well, it would paint a huge bulls-eye on her Nephew's back, and by default, her family's back as well.

And since they couldn't give the child up, considering he was made out to be some sort of messiah to their world, it was obvious that little old Petunia was in a tough spot. A tough spot that made both her, and her husband grow even more hateful of the baby in their care.

But Petunia was a resourceful woman, and she wouldn't let this unwanted addition get in the way of her life; or so she had long told herself. It didn't take much to convince Vernon to throw the little hellion into the cupboard under the stairs, the man all too willing to 'stamp out the freakishness' out of the boy; a trait branded into him from all her own stories.

It was history from that point on, or it was as far as Petunia was concerned. The letter said she had to take in the brat, but it never quite told her how to raise him. So did what was best, for her that was; and if she got a little revenge along the way, well, more power to her, or so she believed.

Feeding the boy table scraps, and giving him Dudley's hand-me-downs was perhaps the most care Petunia really gave the child early on; the only other gift being a pair of gardening gloves when the child was about three, and old enough to do manual labor and chores that she would never give her precious son.

Vernon, the loving husband he was, was all too happy to help her with making sure the brat had more than enough to do in their house. Cooking breakfast, cleaning, general handy-work, all sorts of chores were buried on the child; giving her a much appreciated reprieve from her usual routine.

If Harry never quite finished his chores, Vernon was always quick to punish the wicked child. A smack to the head, a spanking more firm than it should be used on a three year old, or just a simple toss into the cupboard were considered the norm; though they did double whenever the freak began to use his powers, and it was something both Petunia and Vernon believed quite heavily in, wishing to stomp the magic out of the child.

The fact that Harry began to get more and more chores as he began to attend school at five, and alongside them more punishments when he couldn't complete them in the shorter amount of time went observed with great glee by the petty woman.

Of course people were always curious about the gaunt little boy who lived at number four Privet Drive, but Petunia was shrewd. All it took was a few tales of delinquency and any suspicion vanished from any of her neighbors, and even the school's eyes. Such tales as like, "Oh, that poor boy, he's far too much like his good-for-nothing parents- I mean, just yesterday I caught him trying to steal my pearl necklace!" had soon become common amongst the community.

Such simple little fibs, they made Petunia's life all that much better, and her Nephew's all that much worse.

At least, until the little hell-spawn turned six years old. That was the day Petunia Dursley found that she was secretly living in hell this entire time, when all of her happiness was robbed from her in an instance.

oO-Oo

It had been a normal day for Petunia, with her sliding out of her bed to get ready ever so carefully as usual with a quick shower that was followed up by getting dressed in one the many dresses; the likes of which looked more at home in a housewives magazine. Makeup would follow up next, painstakingly placed to make her look as flattering as possible for her darling Vernon, before she styled her hair appropriately as always.

And then she'd filter down the stairs, only pausing at the bottom to knock at the boy's cupboard to inform him in a rather high pitched voice to wake up and start breakfast, after which she would go to the kitchen and sit down; like a queen who was waiting for her servants.

That's where her normal day ended. The boy didn't come out from his room, even after Vernon and Dudley loudly shuffled their way into the kitchen, both looking like they just got out of bed; even though Vernon was already dressed for the day.

Petunia just about screamed for her nephew when his tardiness began to stretch far past anything it ever had before; until she noticed him in the kitchen door frame with a look of superiority on his face; something no one had ever seen on the usually meek boy before.

It made Petunia's stomach churn in hatred when she spied it. It was a look someone who was in the presence of bugs, a sort of smug but disgusted look that seemed to speak of how much better one was to everyone else.

Vernon beat her to the punch though when he came to addressing the situation, his face inflamed a bright red as he yelled out rather unimaginatively, "What do you think you're doing, Freak!"

The boy sneered, sneered of all things at her beloved husband! The look was distinctively foreign on his face, even when he let out with a spiteful sentence she would never forget. "You shall address me as 'Your Radiance', you uncouth pig."

Petunia had seen red as her mouth opened in an unheard screech, and Vernon seemed to be in the same situation if his pinched, puce colored face was anything to go by. Dudley just couldn't seem to decide if he should gap at the audacity of the situation, or glare at his cousin for insulting his father.

Vernon was already up by the time Petunia gathered her wits, murder and his own ill intent clear in his eyes as he made his way to the doorway, intent on beating the boy if his mutters of 'ungrateful, rotten, hell-bound, freak', was anything to go by.

Harry seemed unamused, he just stood his ground, a look of superiority at Vernon before telling him to 'Back down like a good peasant before I make you.'.

If she had the knowledge she did today, Petunia would have pleaded for her husband to stand down, to just sit in his chair and look down; to not draw the freak's attention to him. But he didn't back down, and he paid for it in a way that even now caused her to quake in terror.

When Vernon didn't comply, instead yelling out wordlessly in rage, the boy retaliated. He traced his fingers in the air, a glowing light trailing after him as he drew something that seemed similar to a stylized W. There was no doubt, even before he told her straight up, that he was using magic; the power rolling off the gloating sigel tangible even to her, transmuting her own anger to fear.

Vernon didn't even get the chance to recognize what Harry did before he was sent hurtling across the room like a discarded beach ball, drawing cries from both her and Dudley.

No one was quite the same after that day, even when her Nephew simply walked out of the house with only a parting saying about him going to school, and that they should 'get the guest room ready for him'. That one order would end up being the catalyst to both her, and her husband's end.

When Harry got back that afternoon they tried everything they could against the boy. Both she and Vernon yelled, and banged against the walls, trying to cow him back into being the meek little thing he was just yesterday; thinking, hoping really that today was just a fluke, that he couldn't control his freakishness or use it against them consciously.

He proved both of them wrong when Vernon tried to use violence against the little freak. He drew another rune in the air, this time a slashed down arrow, and suddenly her husband was flat on the floor, unable to move as he tried to flail about. Petunia could have fainted right there and then when he gave her his attention.

They ended up giving him the guest room that very day.

Vernon never learned his lesson though, even when Harry, 'Call me Your Radiance', warned him that the next act of violence would be his undoing.

oO-Oo

In the dead of the night, about two days later, Vernon, high off of fear and anger tried to sneak into her nephew's new room to stab him with a knife from the kitchen set.

It failed.

The next morning found Petunia sobbing over her husband who sat in the living room with the most dead expression to his eyes, as he moaned about how afraid he was. Flinching away from her, and wailing pitifully as he tried to huddle into the folds of his fat and the couch.

'His Radience' was nice enough to explain to her what happened, and it made Petunia sick. Not at her husband, she had long since glued rose-colored glasses to her eyes when it came to the man and his short comings; and in her own opinion, her Nephew was evil at this point for what he did, and she wouldn't bat an eyelash if he were to drop dead.

No, what made her, Petunia Dursley, a child abuser and neglecter sick was what her own blood did. Her nephew had broke her husbands heart, literally. He had explained how he forcibly pulled out the emotional aspect of courage from him, and crushed it in his own six year old hand.

Harry also told her how much Vernon screamed when he did it.

That night Petunia cried herself to sleep, having been forced to go through the day and attend to the whims of 'His Radiance Harry Potter' whilst doing the house work, and trying to keep her son from seeing the state his dad was in. The fact Vernon continued to shake, even in what should have been the safety of their room and bed did nothing to help her tears.

oO-Oo

Two years passed since then, and Petunia had fancied herself as being wise since the 'situation', to the point she felt as though she was no longer walking on eggshells in her own home.

Of course, that didn't alleviate her anger, her entire home life having been turned upside down with her having to return to daily chores, even more so since Vernon's punishment. But she was alive, and marginally unscathed except for the few tricks that her freak of a Nephew liked to play on her and Dudley whenever he got bored.

The only true godsend to happen over the two years was Vernon's reemergence back into the workforce after five months of hiding in their house; though not without a lot of protest and cries of fear. Their savings were a bit drained from the man's refusal to go to work, and whilst they might not ever recover it with Vernon's now cowardly ways, at the very least they wouldn't go broke.

Still, Petunia felt far braver with herself when she walked in her home. She couldn't say she wasn't afraid of her Nephew, she still was without a doubt. But it was far easier to ignore that little niggling fear compared to two years ago. Besides, as long as she did the chores about the house and didn't try to starve the little freak he'd ignore her, and she was fine with that.

So when she walked into Harry's room, the once guest room that usually belonged to Marge whenever she came over, Petunia couldn't help the scream that tore through her throat at the sight that met her.

Harry was sitting at the edge of the large double bed, his back straight and his face smoothed over into an expression of regal appearance; almost as though he were trying to play as a king. But that hardly bothered Petunia, who had gotten used to her nephew looking like that.

No, it was the spectral figures that spooked her badly. Sat around the freak was eleven spectral figures dressed ornately in grand robes of white, black, and gold. In their hands they each held large staffs, each as ornate ad the next, with only a slight variation to each style. But it was their heads that gave her a fright.

There were no faces, just grand masks, each in the shape of some form of animal; one of which was even a dragon! Petunia was used to her Nephew's freakiness, but this simply took the cake. And the thin woman couldn't help the words that tumbled out of her mouth in a painfully high shriek.

"What you are doing, freak!"

If she could go back in time and undo anything, it would have been that moment of carelessness. Because Petunia knew she had royally screwed up.

Not that Harry even acknowledged that she did, he just gave her an unamused look and waved her away without a word. She fled with as much grace as a bucking horse, making a beeline to flee the room that was obviously filled with something freakishness.

This time though, Harry had scared her on far more of a level than usual; and it wasn't just the strange spectral beings that did this to her. There was just something that had unsettled her deeply in there. And it wasn't his attitude, because the boy had long since been that way when it came to her family.

It was his eyes, those almost glowing emerald orbs hidden behind ugly coke bottle glasses which bore into her soul with such an apathetic look that promised nothing less than punishment. No child, not even the freakish ones should have eyes like that. Eyes which would never care for the suffrage of others.

And those eyes scared her far more than anything else in her life. More than the freaky magic her sister and nephew used. More than fearing that her parents didn't love her as much as Lily when she was just a child. More than even the fear of losing her son and husband.

Petunia was right to fear those eyes, their promise of punishment all too real. Though none of the punishment would physically touch her; she was spared that aspect of wrath from Harry. But when Vernon stumbled into the house far later than he usually should have, with something new lingering alongside his cowardly ways, her sentence was all too clear.

Where Vernon might have been bereft of courage, he now lacked the emotion of love. It showed plain as day when he wouldn't even as much touch Petunia, let alone hug Dudley when he rushed out of his room after seeing his daddy was home.

Her Nephew, the monster, had broken his heart even worse than before; and it wasn't even Vernon's fault.

Petunia found herself later that night crying again, though this time cuddling with her son in his room; having felt all too uncomfortable to sleep alongside with Vernon, who no longer cared for her.

She couldn't help but wonder what she did to deserve this sort of treatment. But there was still one gleaming hope for her in the future.

Hogwarts would obviously be taking the boy, the letter she received upon taking him in making that obvious. Not to mention the boy was with no doubt magical. And whilst it might be a fools hope, the headmaster of that abomination of a school might be able to temper the boy, and keep him from being the monster he was today.

Too bad for Petunia, she didn't know how much that really was a fool's hope.

oO-Oo

Meanwhile in what was once the guest room, Harry Potter was lying down upon the comfortable queen-sized bed. His face was smoothed over into a cold look, yet there was no denying the boy was happy if the little sparkle in his green eyes was to go by.

Around him stood a group of spectral figures, the same one which had caused Petunia's outburst earlier that day. They were all silent as they stood vigil around his bedside, looking much like guard dogs. But this group of beings were more than Harry's guards; they were first and foremost his council.

They were the Zodiarchs, a group of beings from a world not their own; a cookie even he had trouble swallowing so to speak, even with the knowledge of magic he gained from meeting them four years ago.

Then again, 'meeting' was a term Harry used lightly when it came to the first time he came in contact with his future council. Or more like heard, considering he was four years old when the first of their voices began to filter into his mind.

He had been so freaked out over the presence of voices that his uncle had thrown him into his cupboard for 'acting like a freak!'. But who could blame him as a kid? Mysterious voices in ones head was usually associated with insanity, to the point where even little kids like him knew that.

Of course later in the day, when he was actually able to understand the garble of voices in his head did Harry rethink about him possibly being crazy; or as much as a four year old could rethink such a complex thought in this case.

Instead he settled for these new voices to be his imaginary friends, and left it at that. Which, looking back on it now he found it rather hilarious. Considering imaginary friends could not be projected into the real world like his council was now, nor could they teach you magic.

Of course when he was four the Zodiarchs were furious over his naive thought about them; and they tried their darnest to correct him about such gross misinformation. They only succeeded when they successfully taught him his first bit of magic; magic lamp. Which he only tried to cast partially out of curiosity whilst he was stuck in his dark cupboard, and secondly because it was rather dark...and the nightmare he had earlier that night left him a bit scared than usual.

When the wobbly, unpracticed form of the rune hovered in the air in front of him for the first time, Harry was amazed. When said rune actually activated the spell, and filled his cupboard to the brim with a soft orange light, he was exhilarated.

After that, well, Harry was a bit more willing to listen to the voices in his head; a saying not many would even consider. And wasn't the little black haired boy glad for it. They were the key for his upraising, his metamorphosis into what he was today; the catalyst used to shatter the invisible shackles that forced him into servitude of the Dursley's.

Not that it happened all it once. It took his council quite a great while to convince him to even strike back at his relatives. A whole two years of them butting heads, of throwing argument after argument against another at his treatment and what should be done over it, which was filled with a fair bit of pigheadedness on both their parts.

During that time, far more was stripped from Harry than his meekness towards his relatives; and wasn't he grateful for it. His council's words had spurred him into thinking, with all the knowledge and logic that a young child of his age had at his disposal.

Questions such as 'why should I care for them when all they do is hurt me?', 'What's the point of being good? They say police men are good, and yet they never helped me before' became the norm when he was forced away into his cupboard or made to do mindless chores.

And the Zodiarchs would always answer him in a timely fashion to each and every question. Their answers always revolved around the same thing; he shouldn't. He shouldn't care for his relatives who neglected and abused him. For all his work they owed him more than he did them, and yet they still denied him love and care. And the other adults, neighbors, teachers, and policemen were all the same. They saw the signs yet they did nothing because his Aunt said something else.

They were just as, if not worse than his relatives.

After time, their words just began to sink in. No matter what defenses he put up or lies he told himself, their words continued to resonate into his being. Until finally, when he was six, Harry Potter finally had enough, and gave into the beings who'd shown him far more cares with the Durlsey's.

The Zodiarchs were more than glad to teach him more useful magic when it came to putting his relatives in their place. Not that they ever stopped teaching him even during their arguments. The only difference between then and now was that he finally graduated to learning battle spells; such a pulse.

The rest as they say, was history beyond that point. Harry put his relatives in place, and began to place more faith in his 'imaginary friends', and in turn, they never led him astray as far as he was concerned.

So when one of his councilors, a masculine figure wearing a dragon mask bowed before his bedside, and asked in his own deep voice, "Will you honor us, by becoming our White Wizard, your Radiance?" Harry couldn't help the answer which tumbled forth from his lips.

"Of course."


	15. The Sorcerer who Lived

**A/N: I own nada.**

**Alright everybody, for today's challenge we have another Harry Potter/Final Fantasy 8 crossover that would just not leave me alone! This was originally inspired by a whole Seifer/Harry idea I had earlier, but it sorta mutated on its own. So without further ado, I present you with today's challenge!**

oO-Oo

**It only takes one difference to spark a change in someone's life. However it takes a whole string of differences to start a change in the world. When Harry fought of Voldemort's possession in the Ministry, things went a little bit different. Without his friend's timely arrival, Harry wasn't able to fight off Voldemort with the feeling of love. Harry gives into hate for the first time, and the results are amazing. Filled with a new wellspring of power, Harry was able to fight Voldemort's mental attack; but not without injury. Without the burning power of love fighting him though, Voldemort is able to leave a nasty surprise behind..one which makes Harry walk through the Veil.**

**The Veil wasn't what the wizard's thought. An artifact that manipulates time and space, it sends Harry to a world quite unknown to him. Picked up by Edea, he spends a somewhat blissful year in her orphanage, bereft of his own magic, until the infamous Potter luck strikes again that is. Present during Ultimecia's appearance, Harry becomes the unlikely recipient for her powers; the key in unlocking his own magic. The future as it's known is undone, and now a new tale is ready to be written in its place. However with the affinity of Ultimecia at his beck and call, Harry's prospects of getting home are higher than ever. And with a school made to fight the threats of Sorceresses, well, Voldemort might be in for quite the rude awakening.**

* * *

**The Sorcerer who Lived**

If Harry had any preconceptions about what situations he'd face when he entered the Department of Mysteries, this was hardly one. Fallen to the floor of the Ministry Atrium, writhing like mad as his supposed mortal enemy, Voldemort, ripped into his mind in an effort to possess him.

It was a painful, humiliating, and violating sensation that flooded him as the Dark Lord whispered into his mind, and used his own mouth to talk aloud. Memories were also thrown into the loop, flashing before his eyes every time they forcibly shut closed; much like when he had Occlumency lessons with Snape.

Even without their painful nature, they were quite distracting. Stealing away his attention at the slightest moment, as he tried to vainly struggle against Voldemort and his darkest piece of magic.

But even so, it hardly distracted him from the hissed conversation going on between the Dark Lord and Dumbledore.

In a sense it was kinda like a movie with people talking in the far background. Sure, you watched the movie, or pain-filled memories for his part, but if you paid just enough attention you could also just catch the conversation; which Harry was trying to do.

"You can't win Dumbledore..the boy's body is almost mine..." The syllabant hiss, much like a snake stuttered out from Harry's mouth; the word's having an echoing quality that showed it wasn't his own.

Dumbledore for his part creased his brow in worry, making his wrinkles show far deeper than they usually were. It was obvious he was worried, yet the aged headmaster seemed to keep his cool as he almost pleaded to the fallen student, "Harry, you must fight back! You must remember that you and he are different!"

The hidden meaning behind the statement was obviously not missed by Voldemort, who chuckled breathlessly through Harry's lips; the spine-chilling sound only causing Harry to hurt more as he tried to focus on both his battle with the other wizard's mind and the conversation going on.

"Different...? Surely you're not such a fool to think we're that different..." the puppet-like body responded, the once green, now black eyes seemed to crinkle in amusement at the older man; who only got progressively more worried as time dragged on.

Then Harry felt it, a far more forceful probe into his mind that started to drag up some of his more buried childhood memories.

Being thrown roughly into his cupboard at four after being falsely blamed for breaking one of Aunt Petunia's vases. Cooking dinner for his relatives at six, and getting smacked upside the head for burning the bacon too badly. The way Vernon would always redden whenever guest asked about his parents, and how he'd say they were good for nothing drunkards.

And the memories just continued to filter by without a care, making him feel even more violated than before. Especially when he felt the distant pleasure of Voldemort course through him at each nasty thought.

First year where a meeting with Malfoy slowly but surely ruin his idea about a portion of the new society he was in. Ron never helping when he spouted off his own prejudice that would damn even young children for sins not their own, and Hermione who fluttered between being a friend and then outright like a worried mother.

Not to mention his defense teacher who almost killed him, and how the adults proved just as useless as his past teachers. To the point they even sent him back to the Dursley's despite his malnourished frame a tatty clothing barely fit for even an urchin; passing it all off by him being 'a regular knobby kneed boy'. Even when his own plea went unheeded by the headmaster.

His second year, and how the Basilisk started to petrify the school. How everyone, even his friends, looked at him in fear and even anger in some cases. Being called the Heir of Slytherin, a title which made him into a social pariah. And how his second defense teacher was content to let another student die.

Third year which started off with a debacle with his Aunt Marge that made him run away into a metaphorical bog of secrets that surrounded his parent's death. How he was kept away from the knowledge of Sirius Black, under the guise to save him, yet putting him in more danger than he'd original be.

And then meeting Remus, Sirius, and unfortunately Peter to learn their stories. Only to be left with a sort of gaping hole in his heart, that mourned for what could have been his life before he was shipped back to his relatives.

Fourth year and the grand reveal of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Being chosen to participate in it, and becoming a pariah and supposed liar all again. Ron betraying him in a fit of jealousy, and Hermione trying her best to mediate between the two as best she could.

It took the death of a good student to reveal that Harry was entered without his consent, and that another of the defense teachers were absolutely horrible.

Only to have everything spit back up at him when the Ministry refused to acknowledge the return of Voldemort, and the appointment of Umbridge who did nothing more than torture him. Snape, and his Occlumency lessons which did nothing more than hurt him. Blindly chasing after Sirius because of a false vision..and losing him.

All of these memories filtered behind his eyes, practically drowning Harry in the misery etched into each of them making them fare more prominent than he ever thought before. Their presence did nothing more than cause his head to throb even more under the assault of Voldemort, who seemed more pleased than a cat who caught the canary.

And didn't the Dark Lord show it when he went to goad Dumbledore another time with his new knowledge. "He never knew love...you know? Far too like me, raised by disgusting muggles..." the man gave another breathy chuckle especially when the other wizard began to pale at the unsaid words.

"Harry...Harry, you must fight him, please! You musn't listen to what he says!" Dumbledore pleaded again, guilt obviously weighing down the bushy beard wizard who held the elder wand tightly in his hand. Though really it felt more like lead in his hand, useless as he tried to spur his charge on.

But Harry's body continued to laugh out of his control, dark eyes sparkling in a joy not his own; though there was still that one spark that was Harry in the darkest corners, that continued to fight against the all consuming possession.

"You'll have to kill me, us, Dumbledore, if you wish the boy to be free...After all, he is a weapon, no? His treatment...can't mean anything different now." the voice hissed pleasantly, noting that Harry's struggles seemed to cease, most likely from shock at the conviction in his voice.

And then the worst thing happened; Dumbledore stalled.

The ancient wizard seemed to think, actually think over Voldemort's words as he tried to think of some way to help his student; his own wand sliding towards Harry in an unintentional motion. But it was more than enough for Harry, who through the haze of pain was able to catch a glimpse at what was going on in the outside world.

And it frightened the boy, who misinterpreted the wisend man's thoughtful look and pointed wand after the conversation. The sense of utter despair, of hopelessness that filled him. It felt like a rock was tied to his leg and he was left out in a lake to drown, something he was sure his relatives wouldn't mind trying on him at all.

It was that moment of weakness that Voldemort's mental attack was able to seep further past the defenses he tried to throw up. The dark presence of the other wizard sliding over his mind like a blackened sludge, staining and corrupting even the most whitest of things.

And Harry screamed like murder, his throat becoming raw as his body unintentionally seizing at the drop of a hat, causing Dumbledore to cry out in both shock and fear; the very scene causing him to miss the clops of shoes that herald Harry's friends arrival.

Not that Harry himself even noticed the group. The pain he had felt earlier seemed to intensify even further with the violating touch of Voldemort's own presence in the deeper recesses in his mind.

At this point he honestly wanted to cry out in misery, to ask why it was him this always happened to. Why he a child had to have the focus of the Dark Lord on him, when he didn't even want to have it. Why his parents had to go die and leave him with the Dursley's. Why his headmaster never listened to his complaints about the Dursley's, dismissing them like a child's over-exaggeration.

Something snapped in Harry during those few moments.

Anger like he had never felt before flooded his being, and hate. The absolute hate burned in his veins, an emotion he hadn't even felt when he tried to chase down Bellatrix only a few moments ago. It was a foreign feeling to Harry, who had tried his best never to grasp upon those negative emotions.

But that was the past.

Harry was so tired of feeling helpless, of being beat about. He grasped those strange emotions almost fanatically in those moments of chaotic thought. And everything exploded into an array of dizzying colors behind his eyes.

His magic, which he had always thought of as average seemed to bulge outwards, becoming larger and larger with each passing moment of his emotional high. The once pond-sized core of magic began to flood outwards, leaving a venerable lake in its wake.

It was an angry lake as well, if the faint angry buzzing, much like a hornets nest, that resounded in his ear was anything to go by.

Voldemort has no idea what hit him. One moment he had finally gotten past the resistance put up by Harry, and the next there was nothing but burning, blinding pain as the boy's own magic sprung outwards to attack him; feeling far too much like boiling oil against his mental probe.

The Dark Lord screamed in rage and pain as he was literally forced away from his victim by the onslaught of magic, his own control slipping at an exceptional rate. There was nothing he could do to regain control, but that hardly meant he was helpless.

Using his own mastery over the art, Voldemort was swift to do his machinations in Harry's mind before the purged him and most of his earlier damage.

However too much magic was used by the time Voldemort was forcibly ejected, and as such not everything was purged from the earlier possession including the last nasty surprise Voldemort left in Harry's mind.

Not that Harry or Dumbledore knew. Both were simply too grateful that the possession was over. So it was no surprise that everything began to go to hell after they let their guard down, unwilling to discuss just what had happened afterward.

Harry, because the increase of magic and the intense emotion that burned through his veins had made him quite lethargic, and Dumbledore because he just wasn't quite sure what had happened; though his mind did stray over to the thought of love and its obscure power, completely ignorant of what emotion had fueled Harry for those few minutes ago.

Harry was left on the floor, only after some fussing over by his friends. Dumbledore didn't want him to be moved until a healer looked him over, just in case moving him would prove more disastrous than helpful after his mental battle.

The elderly wizard had sent away a man by the name of Kingsley to fetch Madam Pomfrey, whilst the others brought with Dumbledore directed his friends towards the floo either to go back to their dorms or the hospital wing depending on their state.

Dumbledore himself was being preoccupied by a babbling Fudge and his flunkies, all of them in shock over seeing the Lord Voldemort make a live appearance in the seat of their government; and of course, the mental attack on the boy-who-lived.

Everyone was far too preoccupied to spy Harry wandering away from his spot on the floor, his movement looking forced and jerking as he made his way out of the atrium, and down an almost familiar path that would lead him back down to the Department of Mysteries.

Harry himself was out of wits as this happened, a mix of lethargy and horror coiling inside him as his body walked without his consent further down the ministry. The sensation of what was happening was nothing like the Imperius Curse which whispered like a sweet nectar in the mind that enthralled you into its command.

This felt more like an invisible force that plucked his mind til his body danced to its tune. It wasn't quite sentient in nature either, nor did it seem to be dependent on a wizard for commands like the aforementioned cure.

Yet it obviously had one purpose, and as Harry began to pass the familiar sights, the cold dread in his stomach seemed to strengthen even further as his mind began to notice the future destination.

This curse was making him walk back to where the Veil was stored.

Harry tried to struggle, really he did. But the possession took too much out of him, and his own magic was tired after purging Voldemort from him. But that didn't stop him from trying to overcome the magic that was left in his mind.

Even when his body jerkily moved into the Death Room Harry didn't give up, no matter how quickly he was approaching his breaking point. And he certainly didn't stop when he came face to face with the Veil itself; only distantly hearing the rushing sound of rushing feet in the outside hall.

The last thing Harry heard before he walked through the Veil was the sound of Dumbledore roaring "No!" before his entire world dissolved into something that looked suspiciously like space; filled with stars and other strange celestial like bodies.

And then everything simply went black.

oO-Oo

Sometimes when Harry woke up in the black of night, he could hardly believed what happened.

Oh sure, he had most certainly accepted the fact that he went through the Veil, albeit not under his own will. But that was just it, he accepted just falling through the Veil, not what happened after it.

He might have known the artifact for all but twenty minutes, but Harry was certain that when one fell through the Veil they died. At least, that's how everyone made it sound after Sirus fell through it. And there was no way Harry imagined the loss of his already beloved godfather.

So it was pretty easy to understand his confusion when he woke up rather alive. Or well, after he was convinced he was alive and not in the afterlife.

Waking up in a huge flower field after you thought you've died tends to do that for you.

But the kindly woman who met him about an hour later when she came to relax in the field was gracious enough to dispel any misconceptions he had.

It was a pretty strange, if not awkward meeting. When Harry had first saw her, his first reaction had been to ask why his parents, or even Sirius weren't there to greet him in the afterlife.

The woman, who would later introduce herself as Edea, had been horrified at the question; if the look in her eyes was anything to go by. There was sadness as well in there, but she seemed to bare it all in good grace, and even kept her composure when she began to softly converse with him.

It was around this time that he also made another startling discovery alongside learning of his living status.

He, Harry Potter, fifteen year old wizard, was now six years old. He was a remarkably well spoken six year old who was wearing some oversized robes, but a six year old nonetheless. And only Edea's presence and his own confused mind kept him from lashing out in anger or grief over his newest situation. Which was quite helpful.

The fact that his own confusion got him hauled off to an Orphanage with minimal fuss from him...was not so helpful. Edea was just as stubborn as she was caring, and not to mention sneaky.

Looking back at it down the line, Harry could say without a doubt in his mind that she would have made a wonderful Slytherin, if she was interested in playing politics both in and out of school.

However the fact remained that this waif of a woman, who looked more birdlike than even him, had tricked Harry into coming with her to her own Orphanage. Not that he really had anyplace else to go- as of now at least.

Which sort of begged the question of just where in the world was he? That was probably the most important problem he had as of now. After all, depending on how far he was from London could really put a hamper on contacting Dumbledore.

It wasn't like he had Hedwig to deliver any messages, or any owl for that matter. He could contact Hermione through the post, but it might be awhile before she got it as her own house.

However Harry was getting ahead of himself. So for now he settled with asking Edea just where in Britain they were.

The answer he received was far from comforting.

Edea had no idea where England was, but she was happy enough to inform them they were on the continent of Centra, to the south.

Harry almost wished he didn't ask any of his follow up questions about the surrounding nations, but Merlin help him if he knew anything about a continent to the south called Centra.

When Edea calmly explained about Galbadia and Esthar, well, Harry's fears slowly began to manifest. Especially after he had a foot-in-mouth moment when he all but fearfully asked the whereabouts of some other familiar continents.

It seemed the good ol' Potter luck was still striking gold. Edea had no clue where Europe, North America, Australia, or even Africa of all places were. The fact that the woman thought he was just being a bit of an imaginative child and not some weirdo was both irritating yet a god-send.

His own fears over the situation he was facing didn't really set in until he and Edea were halfway to the Orphanage, where they were met by a most peculiar sight.

A little green lizard-like creature who was more or less the size of a goblin. He wore robes which reminded Harry much like the Fat Friar, and toted about a small metal lantern and a kitchen knife of all things.

Edea had all but thrown Harry behind her protectively as she eyed the stumbling creature from a distance; her hackles rising like a protective mother wolf. But the creature, if it even saw them, didn't bother them. It just stumbled away as thought it were completely unaware of the world around them.

Only when it left did Edea explain, or more like console from her point of view, that the resident Tonberries rarely left the Centra Ruins; alongside the other monsters that dwelled within there.

Monsters, the thought would have made Harry laugh if he didn't have the proof in front of him; or continued to see it as time passed by.

But the viewing of his first Tonberry did lead credence to Harry's fears that were boiling over in him. Combined with Edea's own admittance to the locations, continents around them, and his sudden appearance, well...

He was no longer in Kansas, as some were fond of saying.

Not that he was one hundred percent sure on his own theory; that he was in another world.

But only time could really tell, however with the way the evidence is mounting, Harry was pretty sure said time would be soon. But for now, at least he had some place to stay, all thanks to Edea.

oO-Oo

Harry's first year the the orphanage was, surprisingly, fun; and therapeutic in its own way.

Not that it began that way. It really was a strange experience for Harry, who heard nothing but horror stories from the Dursley's about these types of establishments. About crumbs for food and abusive caretakers.

But Edea's, or Matron as she liked to be called, Orphanage was different. For one, it wasn't a rickety old building like he thought it would be. Instead, it was a stone house that looked peculiarly like the Roman temples he would spy in his primary school's history books. With tall columns and small stone carvings for bordering were just entirely too common.

There was even a beautiful garden around the property. Not quite like the flower field Edea found him in, but nonetheless pretty. With small shrubbery and hanging ivy that loved to cling to the courtyard columns.

The inhabitants were also not what he expected. For one, Edea was a very kindly woman, not at all like the image his aunt Petunia liked to spin. Oh sure, she was still the same stubborn and sneaky woman that dragged him to her home, but there was also a sort of aura to her; one Harry imagined a mother would have.

She made sure everyone was always fed, and that they were happy. Of course she didn't quite have the money to buy them everything willy nilly, but the other children never seemed to mind.

Speaking about other children, they too didn't fall in line with the horror stories his relatives were so fond of. They weren't thieving vagabonds, nor were they bullies who would seek him out for being 'freaky'; they were just...kids.

Albeit, a tad annoying children at times, but children nonetheless. It was only luck that there was only a small group around his age group that would interact with him; all the others either thinking they were too old to 'play with babies', or just completely uninterested.

Still, the small group was...interesting, to say the least. They made for a great distraction whenever he began to go into a funk about his newest circumstances. The fact that they somewhat reminded him of some people back at home helped a little as well.

Not that being friends with them for their similarities would be fair; to them or who they reminded him of. But it was a bit of a comfort in this new world. And having new friends was...a nice experience, if Harry had to say. Even if they were kids.

His first, and best friend in this new world was actually a bit shocking; to both himself and everyone else in the orphanage. Seifer Almasy, with his gold-blond haired was a certified brat if there had ever been one; he could even give Draco a run for his money. What with loving to lord himself around like a peacock and making fun of those he thought under him; like Zell.

So it was funny, ironic really, that he became Harry's first friend. The fact that they became friends over an argument, albeit a stupid one which made them get caught into a little rough-housing, was nothing short of amazing. Especially since Seifer didn't look the type to make friends after a fight.

However that didn't make him a bad person.

Seifer did have a good heart, no matter how misplaced it might be at times. He had such a hero-complex, always thinking about saving the day and all of those who couldn't defend themselves; and he was quite a bit of a romantic too. If his desire to be a knight to a Sorceress was anything to go by.

Though his idea of what a knight was seemed to be a tad over-glorified in Harry's opinion.

Speaking of Sorceresses, that was as much of a shock as it was a blow to his gut. To think that magic, honest to god magic was known by the populace was both frightening yet fascinating to him. Considering his world was kept hidden by the Statute of Secrecy.

However the thought that it could only be wielded by women, who often went insane; and in a most recent case went to war with the world, was a bit concerning. After all, he did have magic himself, and the thought that he could go insane, or have a witch hunt on his own head was also concerning.

Or so he thought. After learning about the 'only women' have magic bit in this world, Harry couldn't help but feel for his own magic that night. A skill which surprisingly came from his failed lessons at learning Occlumency.

The results were quite shocking, as they were devastating to him.

Harry still had his magic, even the boost he gained when fighting off Voldemort, that did not change. He could feel it under his skin, flowing through his veins like his very blood. But at the same time, it was completely denied from him. It was like his body was wrapped in cellophane wrap to keep any of his power from being used.

Like the very world itself was telling him that his own magic was against its rules.

And whilst he was glad he still had his magic, Harry couldn't help the sadness that flooded his system. That something which had become so apart of his very being was being denied its use felt so wrong to him.

But for now he couldn't do anything. He just had to continue trudging on, and hoping that something would either unlock the invisible bindings on his magic or that he'd get home soon.

Both prospects looked very dim though, even as he continued to make friends in the orphanage.

Speaking of friends, second friend from the gaggle of younger children was none other than Quistis. The year older girl's personality was almost a punch to the gut the first time he met her. The drive to learn, the somewhat worried mother-hen inspired nagging. It was so similar to Hermione it almost hurt.

And in a way, she also reminded Harry, of well, himself. How she tried her best to understand those around her to make friends, yet she always seemed to be a bit more awkward when she did.

Harry really couldn't help but be friends with her; and neither could she apparently. Of course there were issues, like her own mother-hen like attitude that bled into the realm of nagging; but he was sure she'd grow out of it in time, or so he hoped.

After that, everything else just seemed to fall into place. Ellone and Squall were next to join up with his little group. Ellone who was older than the rest of them, physically at least, was a welcomed addition with her calm but motherly personality; much like Edea's in a way.

Squall himself was kinda like Neville if Harry had any say. He seemed attached to Ellone as one would be to a security blanket, and didn't seem to have much confidence in himself. Yet he seemed to have the workings of a natural leader and great man within him; again, much like Neville.

Harry had no problem with befriending him.

Zell, Irvine, and Selphie were also quick to make a nitch for themselves in his little group. Zell's and Selphie's own happy attitudes making them easy to fit in, the exception being Seifer who would tease Zell mercilessly at times; much to Harry's exasperation.

They became a pretty tight nit group of friends, much to Harry's surprise with how much he enjoyed it.

Irvine, well, his easy-going attitude was a welcome respite to the bundle of energy he seemed to be surrounded with. And it wasn't all too odd for Harry to sneak off with him, or Ellone to get a few moments of quiet when everything became just too much.

Which wasn't what he was going to get on that fateful day when Ellone had left the orphanage.

oO-Oo

No one knew what had happened, one moment she was there, and then next she was gone. There was no explanation about it, but Edea hardly seemed bothered by it. If anything, only Harry's friends seemed particularly troubled, none-more than Squall; who too went missing.

Now that, Edea was worried about. She had asked the orphans to help her look for him, and Harry was quick and happy to oblige. Squall didn't need to feel alone in the emotions that had been brewing in him; much like Harry when he first came to the orphanage.

The thought that he'd never see Ellone again, that she might have abandoned him; he knew it too well. It was the same emotions that prevailed within himself when his mind wandered to Sirius' fate.

The thought that he might never see the man, there being no guaranteeing that he fell into the same world as he always linger there in his thoughts. Or even worse, the dark fear about him being dead, the very real chance always being there.

But unlike Squall he wasn't left alone in his grief, no matter how much the others might not understand it. Seifer had surprisingly enough been the one to comfort him about it, as much as a seven year old boy could be.

But the point remained that Harry had someone to comfort him through his fears, and his nightmares; and he was hardly going to let Squall suffer through it alone.

So it was no surprise when his own good intentions completely backfired on him, completely.

He had been in the garden searching for Squall. He had just wandered into a small alcove on the side when there was a sound of wind; like something had just been displaced. And suddenly there was a brunet man standing in front of the orphanage with all too familiar blue eyes.

Edea chose that time to leave the main house, obviously having exhausted every hiding spot Squall could have been inside. She easily approached the newcomer much to Harry's worry. After all, who knew what the man could be with him suddenly appearing out of thin air.

They conversed, far too quietly for Harry to hear, and then suddenly she came in another woosh like the man had.

However unlike the man, this woman felt heavily of oppressive magic that oddly reminded him of age. There was also the added effect of a purple, vaporous mist that surrounded her.

She was all too beautiful with her silvery tresses and angular face. Too bad the image was ruined by the tribal, purple tattoos that flowed down her face, and made her yellow eyes all too sharp. The fact that her hair was fashioned into horns, her feet were clawed, and the raven like wings on her back also didn't help much.

Harry could remember distantly thinking about how she reminded him suspiciously like Voldemort; a man who was once described as charming, yet in the end was ruined by his own twisted magic.

And then everything simply went to hell after her arrival.

Harry could only remember snatches of the conversation that happened. Matron admittance to being a witch since a young age, a Sorceress as they called it here; which made him wonder why he never quite sensed her magic before.

Which was answered quite quickly when he felt her magic unwrap around her a moment later, feeling like a blast of cold arctic wind; making it all too obvious that she tried to hold it deep inside her.

An explanation that the silver haired woman was dead, and had to pass on her powers, and she was willing to accept them. A bolt of violet power, which looked suspiciously like lightning, flying from the silver haired Sorceress towards Edea, only to curve mid-air and make way towards the alcove he was in.

The sound of Edea's startled cry and the other man's shocked gasp as the cone of energy tore into himself, passing forth even more magic than he thought possible and the affinity which lingered in it. Alongside the feeling of the invisible barrier that once blocked his magic being torn away.

And then encroaching darkness as Harry's body began to acclimate itself to the newest changed wrought upon him. With only the distant, and confusing thought as to how this happened; a sentiment shared by both Edea and the strange man with her.

All unknowing that magic will always pass on to one with a greater potential in this world.

Harry would only half hear the conversation of Garden and a task force sent to go after insane Sorceresses before he completely backed out.

Later that night when Harry awoke under Edea's vigilant and worried gaze, he couldn't help but think back to that word; Garden. And in a passing thought, wondered just how great it would have been against Voldemort if he ever did get back to his world.

The future on that prospect was looking a bit brighter now. He did have his magic now.


End file.
